


Mage Story: Sacrifice

by IncompleteHack



Category: Dragon Age (Comics), Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age - Various Authors, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Blood Magic, Character Death, Circle Mages, Death, Emotional, Epic, F/M, Heartache, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Love, Mage Rebellion, Mage Rights, Mage-Templar War, Mages, Mages and Templars, Mind Rape, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, Revenge, Romance, Sexual Content, True Love, Unrequited Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 23:10:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 61
Words: 45,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11542377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncompleteHack/pseuds/IncompleteHack
Summary: For as long as she remembered, Maggie always thought that the world had proven to be nothing but pain and sadness. Lies and deceit. Until she met Alistair. It is only then, when she finally knows love, that she is able to accept her purpose. For it is only in darkness that a light can be seen.Alistair thought that he would be trapped forever in a fate he desperately wanted to escape. Until Duncan had come and given him a chance at freedom, a chance to be someone else. But fate is not so kind. In the end, he realizes there was only ever one fate waiting for him, and that one's life can be as much a sacrifice as one's death.





	1. The Harrowing

It was midnight and a Templar was escorting Maggie to the top of Fereldan’s Circle Tower. She had never been up here before in all the years she had lived in Kinloch Hold. As they entered the Harrowing Chamber, she halted and cast an astonished glance around the room. Massive walls bore down upon her as torchlight flickered and danced over the darkened stained-glass windows. A magnificent fresco depicting the life and death of the prophet Andraste spanned the ceiling far above her.

Maggie's guide led her to the center of the room where a group of Templars materialized out of the darkness. Full helms covered their faces and they wore dark ceremonial cloaks over their armor. Faceless, they stood vigilant, ready at a moment’s notice to carry out their terrible duty. Maggie wondered if Cullen was among them, but quickly stopped herself. That kind of thinking wouldn't do her any good right now.

Two men stood apart from the rest of the group. One was Knight-Commander Greagoir, and the other was her mentor, First Enchanter Irving. Maggie had known Irving ever since she had first arrived at the Circle Tower. Upon her arrival, she had been taken immediately before him and Greagoir. They had told her a mage's blood was unique and could be used for good or for evil. The Templars used it to track apostates while blood mages used it to augment their powers and call upon demons. Then they had retrieved Maggie's blood and used it to create a phylactery.

They explained that all of this was for her protection because she needed to understand the dangers she posed to others as well as to herself. And at times, their fear seemed understandable. But the Circle still felt like a prison all the same. The Chantry had handed her a life sentence for no other crime than being born with the powers the Maker Himself had given her.

 _And I’ll be given a death sentence just as easily if I don’t show care_ , she reminded herself.

"The Harrowing is a secret by necessity," Irving was saying. "Spirits of the Fade are drawn to you, as they are to all mages. You must now enter the Fade and face a demon armed with only your will to show that your magic does not rule you. Only then will you be accepted as a mage of the Circle." 

“I am ready," she intoned, standing straight and lifting her chin high. She did not wish to show them fear.

“Know this, Apprentice,” Greagoir said, moving to look her full in the face. “If you fail, we Templars will do our duty. You  _will_  die.”

The silence held thick in the air after this pronouncement. The Templars stood like living statues in the darkness, not moving, not even seeming to breathe. But Irving lay a reassuring hand upon her arm and offered her a few words of comfort.

“Every mage must go through this trial by fire,” he muttered into her ear, too softly for anyone else to hear. “As we succeeded, so shall you.”

Maggie took a deep breath and nodded. Irving patted her arm and then withdrew. She stepped forward through the circle of Templars and there, in the exact center of the room, she saw a pedestal filled to brimming with lyrium.

Lyrium. It was almost alive in its fluidity; almost singing in its resonance. Magic in its raw form.

Maggie stretched out her hand, but before it had reached the bowl, the lyrium reacted. A flash of blue flame lashed out and enveloped her in its embrace. She felt her consciousness being ripped from her body as it was drawn into the Fade. Back in the Harrowing Chamber, Maggie fell to the floor and lay there, motionless.

There was nothing to do now but wait.


	2. The Dream

The girl cowered in fear from the man outside, the safety of the darkness broken by a sliver of light coming in through a crack in the closet door. Though familiar, his features were contorted with rage, and only the deepest concern she felt for her mother overrode her fear enough to peek out at last. 

She had witnessed scenes like this many times before, hiding until her father's anger dissipated and regret began to sink in. Then he would cry at her mother's feet and beg for forgiveness, promising that it would never happen again. That he would never hurt Maggie. That he would rather die than be without them. Then he would take her to the single bed they all shared, where she would sleep between them, her angel and her demon.

Unable to support them both and unwilling to leave her daughter behind, Maggie's mother had sunken into despair, her spirit broken and defeated. She rarely even fought back anymore, knowing that she just risked her husband's ire if she did. But tonight, nothing could dissuade him. Maggie watched through the crack in the door, terrified, as her mother sank unconscious to the floor.

Maggie's heart began to beat wildly in her chest. He would come for her next, she knew. At nine years old, she had already seen more than enough of the world. A black eye here, a burn mark there, just another in a long line of broken promises. And then the beatings had begun. But this was something different. This was an inferno of rage that could not be quenched.

As though he had read her mind, her father turned to look at her hiding spot, one of his hands still clutching her mother's limp arm. He released it, and she watched it drop with a horrible finality. She felt a sickening  **T-H-U-D**  as it hit the dirty, wooden floor. She felt it deep down in her gut, where it reverberated again and again.

**T-H-U-D**

"I'm dead," it said.

**T-H-U-D**

"I'm gone."

**T-H-U-D**

"And I'm never coming back."

Maggie flinched as though he had physically struck her and then scurried back as far as she could go into the closet until she hit the far wall. She looked wildly around her, trying to find something to hide behind. But there was nothing. It was tiny and bare just like the rest of the little farmhouse. They had never had much money. Their clothes were always frayed and filled with holes. Most nights they ate little while her father drank away their savings. While he slept, Maggie and her mother would huddle together, sharing their warmth and their love. Pretending they were anywhere else but there.

Her mother had spent her days trying her best to make that old house into a home. Days that they had spent mostly alone together, laughing and playing. They seemed so far from dark nights like these--a time where she could feel safe and loved in her mother's arms. But all of that was gone now. It had ended with a  **T-H-U-D**.

Maggie's father wrenched open the closet door, one calloused hand already balled into a fist, ready to strike. She stared into his face, so unlike her own. Skin tanned to a deep olive, stringy black hair and bloodshot eyes. She saw the still form of her mother behind him, blood now pooling beneath her. Her face flitted across Maggie's mind. Pale skin and large eyes. Hair so blonde it was almost white. Her loving touch and gentle kisses.

Maggie's insides exploded with the terrible pain of grief, and at that moment something happened that had never happened before. When she screamed her anguish to the universe, it responded to her call. Maggie sent a stream of fire pouring forth from her fingertips, watching as it engulfed the monster that had haunted so many of her dreams. 

When the Templars arrived, they found Maggie hovering protectively over her mother's still form. Though she was covered in blood and ash, Maggie was unscathed by the blaze that had destroyed their home. The fire still licked at the edges of the scorched farmhouse as they pried the weeping child from her mother's remains and carried her away.


	3. Fears

Maggie sat up in her bed, shaking and drenched in sweat. Her skin felt hot and damp in the chill night air, and her hair had been plastered to her forehead with sweat. She took a minute to slow her breathing, trying to place where she was. The dream had seemed so real. Shapes began to take form gradually in the darkness and she soon realized was lying in her small bunk in one of the apprentice dormitories. Relief flooded through her and she fell back into her pillow. Of course. She was in the tower and her father had been dead for many years now.

Jowan stirred in his bunk a few feet away. He was older than Maggie, with jet-black hair and matching eyes. His sharp nose and angled features gave him the look of some sort of bird of prey. She realized that he was awake. That he had been watching her.

"Maggie? What's the matter?"

"Nothing, Jowan. Go back to sleep."

"Did you have another nightmare? Was it because of your Harrowing?"

"I said it’s nothing," she snapped, throwing her blankets aside and placing her bare feet on the cool stone floor. She sat hunched over with her face in her hands for a few moments before looking back up at Jowan. She could see his worried face in the darkness, momentarily illuminated by a flicker of the torchlight.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "Look, I don't want to talk about it okay?"

Maggie grabbed her robe and made her way down the long line of bunks to the washroom. Where Jowan was all shadows and sharp angles, Maggie had a radiance that softened even the harshest of her features. The large, blue eyes she shared with her mother dominated her oval face, and her hair hung down her back in a gentle waves. Though she'd been half-starved until she'd been taken to the Circle Tower, her petite frame still held feminine curves that had filled out over the years.

Maggie reached the far end of her row and moved around the wall that separated the washing and sleeping areas and tossed her robe aside. She bent over one of the basins to rinse her face. The sting of the cool water on her cheeks felt refreshing after the heat of her dreams. She undressed, letting the droplets of water slide down her chest, soothing the burning skin there.

She ran water into the large washbasin, then removed her nightgown and lowered herself into it. She stayed there for a long time, her knees pulled up to her chin and her arms wrapped protectively around her legs. She let her head drop onto her knees, her hair floating in the water around her in dark tendrils.

After a while, she began to shake from the sobs she could no longer hold back. She hadn't had that dream in a while now. It must be because of her Harrowing. And tomorrow she was to move to her new room. New places, new fears; it had always been this way.

Just then, Maggie felt a hand on her back. She froze. Lost in thought, she hadn’t heard anyone enter the room.

"So many scars," came a low voice.

Before she could even think what to do, soft fingers began to trace the scars across her shoulders and down her back. She trembled.

"So many..."

Maggie began to think furiously, unsure of what to do. Lately, had begun to catch him watching her more and more often and she often found the intensity of his gaze unnerving. It reminded her too much of her father.

 _New fears_ , her mind whispered against her will and she began to shiver violently.

The hand disappeared and a moment later the soft cloth of her robe took its place. Maggie paused uncertainly and then stood up, letting the water drip from her before quickly stepping from the tub and pulling it on around her.

She turned back to Jowan and the distance seemed to close without either of them moving. Suddenly his face was too close to hers, his intelligent eyes glinting in the torchlight. Without thinking, Maggie took a few quick steps back from him.

"Um, I'm sorry,” she stammered. “I have to go."

And then she fled.


	4. Cullen

Maggie walked down the dimly lit hallway hardly knowing where she was going. She was still feeling shaken. Jowan's intense black eyes flashed across her vision once more and she shivered again and hugged herself tightly. She came to the entrance of one of the small balconies on the upper floor of the tower and stopped to look out at the dawn. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting long beams of brilliant orange through the soft blues and yellows of the morning sky.

A noise to her left drew her attention. Cullen stood on the far side of the little balcony. He almost seemed as though he could be part of the scenery, his Templar armor casting back the bright light of dawn and his red hair glowing like streaks of fire. He was tall and muscular and though he was no longer a boy, he was hardly a man.

Without even realizing it, Maggie began to relax. Somehow, she felt safer. She felt the irony of the situation and almost laughed out loud. Here she was, terrified of her fellow mage and supposed friend, but completely comfortable in the presence of this Templar.

Maggie stepped out onto the balcony, making Cullen start.

"Oh!" he said, straightening up. "Good morning."

"Good morning," she said, smiling at him.

They stood looking at each other for a few moments before seeming to realize what they were doing. Then Cullen turned back to the sunrise, blushing furiously, and her heart melted right down into her toes.  

"Do you mind if I join you?” she asked.

"Of course not!" he said quickly, then looked away, embarrassed.

Maggie laughed.  "You're up early. Do you come here often?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes. I used to watch the sunrise with my sisters and brother on our farm back home. It just makes me feel closer to them somehow."

Maggie smiled sadly at him and looked away. To her horror, she felt tears brimming in her eyes again and blinked them furiously away. She tried to think of something to say but the shadows that had been so briefly driven away had crossed her heart once more.

"Well," she said, looking away to hide her face. "I should go."

"Wait!" he said, reaching out a hand to stop her. "Don't go. I didn't mean to upset you or anything."

He trailed off, looking confused and upset.

"No, it wasn’t you,” she said quickly, stepping a little closer to him. “It was just...Well, I had a bad dream, I guess."

Cullen looked at her for a long time, but Maggie refused to meet his eye. He seemed like he wanted to say something. She cast around for something else to say. But before she could think of anything, Cullen spoke.

"Can I walk with you?”

"Oh," she said, relieved. "Okay."

Cullen smiled at her and they stepped back into the dim corridor together, making their way down to the library. They spoke little, but the silence was comfortable, and she suddenly found herself feeling a lot less lonely than she had a few minutes before.


	5. Jowan

Maggie went back to her dorms at the end of the day to find Jowan waiting there for her. She saw him sitting on her bunk as she entered. She hesitated and then went over and sat down next to him.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” he said back. Then he just sat there, staring down at his hands.

Maggie looked at him thoughtfully. He had been acting so strange lately. Ever since Anders began his escape attempts from the tower two years ago, Jowan had thought of little else. He brooded over it. He had begun studying with the senior mages shortly after and they had seen less and less of each other since.

She wondered sometimes if he would make a run for it one day, too. They had never taken him for his Harrowing, after all. He was older than her and he had been there longer. She kept expecting it any time, but it had never happened. Ever since the Templars had transferred Karl back to Kirkwall, none of her friends had been the same. Anders. Karl. Jowan. Maggie wondered, as she had done many times before this, what would happen to Anders the next time they returned him to the tower? Last time, he had been placed in solitary confinement for a full week. And yet, he had escaped once more. Would they make him Tranquil this time? She shuddered at the thought of it. Being cut off from the Fade left a mage completely without magic. Emotionless beings incapable of any feeling whatsoever.

“I saw that Templar, Cullen, carrying you in last night,” came Jowan's voice, breaking into her reverie.

Maggie started and looked up at him. She saw once more the faceless Templars from the night before and felt a pang somewhere deep inside her. 

He scowled. "I don't see what you see in that guy, anyway."

She blushed and looked away, still not answering.

"So, what happened?”

Maggie recalled the Knight-Commander's words from the night before.  _We will kill you._ She shuddered.

“Patience, Jowan. You’ll have your turn soon enough," was all the reply she gave him before standing to collect her things.

“Yeah, right," he scoffed. "I've been here longer than you, and we both know what happens to an apprentice if they aren't taken for their Harrowing. Tranquility or death. And I'll  _never_  let them make me Tranquil."

Maggie turned back to him, shocked.

"Do you really think Irving would just stand by and let Greagoir make you Tranquil?"

"And if he did?"

"If he did, what?"

"If they wanted to make me Tranquil. What would you do?"

"I--I don't....Why are you asking me this?" she asked standing up and facing him. He stood too, looking back at her with an intensity that made her blush. The moment seemed to stretch on and on, but then he shrugged and looked away, and the spell was broken.

"Never mind," he said dismissively. "I was supposed to tell you to go see Irving when you got back.”

Maggie shook her head, feeling sick and confused. Not knowing what else to do, she rushed back out of the dormitories to see the closest person she had left to a family.


	6. Introductions

Maggie arrived outside Irving's study to find him in the midst of a heated discussion with Greagoir and a man she didn't recognize.

“We’ve dedicated enough of our own to this war effort,” Greagoir was saying.

“Your own? Whenever did you begin to feel such kinship with the mages, Greagoir?" Irving laughed. "At any rate, Duncan is not only here to select more mages for the king's troops. He also wishes to take a recruit back with him to the Grey Wardens.”

"Gentlemen, please!" the stranger interjected in such a tone of command that both men fell silent at once. "It appears there is someone here to see you."

Irving looked around to see Maggie framed in the doorway and his face softened.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, welcoming her.

"You sent for me First Enchanter?" 

“Well, I can see you’re busy, Irving," Greagoir broke in before Irving could answer. "We can discuss this later.”

He crossed the room in a few quick strides, casting a questioning look at Maggie as he passed. She returned the look with interest, then moved forward to stand between the two men.

Irving smiled down at her. “Congratulations on passing your Harrowing. You are now a full mage within the Circle of Magi.”

“Thank you, Irving,” she said before turning to Duncan, who had been openly staring at her throughout this exchange. He appeared to be perhaps 35 years old, though his black hair and neat beard showed liberal streaks of gray. He was tall and muscular, with golden skin like honey, and he stood with a regal bearing. Where a man like Duncan led, people followed.

"Maggie, this is Duncan, one of the famed Grey Wardens,” Irving supplied. “You recall what I told you of the war effort to the south? The king is attempting to gather more troops to fight the darkspawn there.”

Duncan glanced sharply at Irving and added, “Yes, but even if you have already sent mages to help in the coming battle, I fear it will not be enough. We believe an Archdemon is leading the horde.”

“Well, enough of this for today, Duncan. We can speak more tomorrow.”

Duncan did not seem satisfied, but he didn’t press Irving further. Maggie looked between the two men, unsure of what to say.

“Well, I should return to my chambers then," Duncan said, breaking the silence. "Maggie, was it? Would you be so kind as to escort me?”

“Oh!” she replied in surprise. “Yes, I’d be happy to.”

Duncan smiled, and Maggie blushed. In truth, she was glad for a chance to talk to Duncan further. He intrigued her, but he also made her nervous. She hadn’t met many strangers since coming to the Circle, and he was like no one she had ever met.

This time, it was Irving who frowned, but Duncan ignored him and motioned for Maggie to follow him. They stepped out into the corridor together, a study in contrasts. He was tall, dark, and careworn with the calloused hands and quiet strength of a warrior. She was small, pale and full of hope, with a gentle touch and a kind heart. Duncan looked at her and a hint of a smile softened his features.

“Thank you for walking with me,” he said warmly. “I appreciate the company.”

"I was hoping I could ask you some questions, actually.”

“Oh? And what about?”

"Do you really think there's an Archdemon? Why haven't we heard about it before now?"

"Already we have seen the darkspawn displaying battle tactics, and that kind of intelligence is only seen when an Archdemon is leading the horde."

Duncan hesitated before responding this time. "The Grey Wardens have also–-sensed--an Archdemon at the head of this horde. Do not ask me how for I cannot tell you. But we cannot ask the king to make decisions based purely on a feeling."

A longer pause followed this statement as Maggie considered what Duncan had said. They had arrived at the guest quarters before either of them spoke again.

“Well, here we are then," Duncan said, turning to face her. "Thank you again for walking with me.”

“That’s okay," Maggie replied quickly. “I don’t mind.”

“I’ll be staying here for only a short time. I'd appreciate your company tomorrow. If you aren't otherwise disposed, of course.”

"Oh," Maggie said, a blush beginning to touch her pale cheeks. “No. I mean, yes. Of course.”

Duncan held out his hand and she placed hers lightly upon it.

“Tomorrow, then," he said, and squeezed lightly.

"Yes, tomorrow," she repeated. Then, pulling her hand from his grasp, she turned on her heel and went rushing back down the hall.

 


	7. Duncan

Duncan went into his room and shut the door. He looked around his large apartment, appreciating its size. There was a comfortable armchair in front of the fire and thick, red carpeting covered the floor. The fireplace was large and well-tended, with a sconce on each side to hold a pair of torches. Next to him was a double bed with a small side table that held a copy of the Chant of Light.

Duncan took one of the torches, stopping to drop his gloves and daggers on the wardrobe, then crossed the room and entered the private bathing area. He placed the torch in an empty bracket and began removing his armor, casting each piece aside as he stripped it off until he was only wearing his underclothes. Then he moved to wash his hands in the lukewarm water from the washbasin, the muscles of his arms and back moving like whipcords beneath his bronze skin. Though he was muscular, he wasn't especially large. He was a rogue after all and living off the land as a Warden all these years had kept him light and agile.

Feeling more like himself, Duncan began to cover his scarred body with his old leather wrappings. They were so well-worn, it was like stepping back into a piece of himself. He appreciated their familiarity after all the time he had been spending in his formal armor recently. When he had finished, he sat by the fire, thinking. He had been a Grey Warden for so many years now that it sometimes seemed like that was all there was left to him. But being back in Kinloch Hold again had caused all the old, painful memories to come rushing back. He recalled how he had started out his journey with King Maric at this very place. About how he had met the young girl while he had been snooping around the tower.

In truth, she had reminded him a great deal of Maggie. Duncan grinned at the thought, recalling how Genevieve had caught them together. But then his smile quickly faded as the rest of their adventure rolled through his mind and he shook his head to stop the memories from playing through. It had been a long time since he had thought about any of that. In fact, he tried not to. He was sure he wasn't the only one. There was a reason he hadn't heard from Fiona in so many years. After the taint had left her body, Fiona had been cast out of the Wardens and sent back to the Circle. And then King Maric had disappeared and Duncan was the only one left to look out for their son.

But Duncan had kept his promise to them both. He had kept an eye on Alistair, checking in on him whenever he could. And when he had seen how unhappy the lad had been in the Chantry, he had done the only thing he could do for him. He had given him his freedom. Alistair had no idea, of course. But then, his parents had never wanted him to know. They wanted him to be happy. To have the chance to choose his own path, unlike the two of them.

Maggie's face flashed through Duncan's mind again. She was so beautiful, with her creamy skin and large, dark eyes. She reminded him of some kind of rare bird, her sweet voice lilting through his memory. He thought of her being shut up in the Circle Tower, living out her days under the thumb of the Chantry. Being viewed with suspicion and treated with disdain. Possibly even violence. It made him want to take her away from it all. Give her the chance to live and love and be loved.

He sighed wearily and rubbed his forehead. He wasn’t exactly offering her an ordinary life in exchange, he knew. Grey Wardens were anything but normal. From the very moment they joined, they were living on borrowed time. Eventually, they all heard the Calling and went into the Deep Roads to find their death. Duncan had recently begun to detect the faintest traces of the Calling himself and he knew his time must be drawing near. He had seen what became of those who sought to escape that fate, and he wanted no part of it. He would rather die as a man than live as a monster. Well, the Wardens couldn't give them everything, but it could at least give them a chance.


	8. The Confession

Cullen stood at his post watching the exchange between Maggie and Duncan. He had heard Greagoir talk about this man before. A Grey Warden, apparently. Normally, Cullen would be in awe of someone like that, but for some reason, he thought he rather hated the man. Lost in thoughts of Duncan dying many varied deaths, Cullen was too late to move when Maggie rushed off only to collide with him moments later.

"Oh, um, excuse me," he stammered as though he hadn't been standing in the same exact spot for hours. He felt his face already beginning to turn red and he quickly stepped back from her by a pace or two.

"Oh, Cullen!" Maggie said, blushing furiously now. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you there."

"That's ok," he said, once again envisioning Duncan flying from the rooftops. "Where are you headed?"

"Well, since you ask, you are now looking at an official mage of the Circle of Magi. First order of business, move into my new quarters as quickly as possible!"

She laughed, then made to move past him down the western stairwell and back to the dormitories when the question popped from his mouth.

"Would you like some help?"

He glared past her toward Duncan's closed door.

"Sure," Maggie replied with a giggle, glancing between Cullen and the door, "but you have to carry the heavy stuff."

He grinned and held the door for her. His large frame filled the narrow opening and she let her hand rest gently on his chest as she brushed past him.

The warm feeling that had just entered his gut turned suddenly icy, the red that had so recently colored his cheeks fading to a pasty white. He hung back for a moment, unsure, and then hurried up behind her. He grabbed her arm and turned her to him.

“Listen, Maggie. I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

He looked searchingly into her eyes then took a deep breath and said in a rush, "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but I was at your Harrowing. The Knight-Commander appointed me as the Templar who would strike the final blow if you failed."

Cullen watched as he felt the weight of his words fall on her. He felt his heart wrench for her and he hated himself for any part he had played in it.

"Could you truly have done it?" 

"I wouldn't want to. Not to you, not to anyone."

He stopped, struggling with himself, before continuing. 

"But I am the Maker's servant and will do as I am commanded," he finished lamely. The practiced words felt cold and hollow.

"Why are you telling me this?"

Cullen stared silently at the floor for a long time before responding. 

"I don't know. It just felt like  _not_ telling you was lying to you somehow."

He dared a glance at her before looking hurriedly away again. Maggie continued down the hall toward the dormitories. He followed in the wake of her silence, feeling defeated.

 _Stupid, stupid!_ he thought to himself.  _What did I go and tell her that for? She'll only hate me now._

But as they walked, Maggie moved closer to him, her arm brushing lightly against his. She allowed her fingers to find his own and gave them a brief squeeze. Then she reached up onto her tip-toes and whispered, "I understand," before lightly brushing his cheek with her lips.

She dropped his hand and walked quickly away.

He stood rooted to the spot for a full minute, his fingers touched the spot where she had kissed him. Then relief began to flood through him along, followed by the realization that she didn't hate him, that she might even like him. He hurried to catch up, and fell into step behind her. When they reached the dormitories, he moved quickly past her so that he could hold the door for her once more. He waited for her to gather her things, lost in thought, unaware of Jowan's glare. 

Thoughts suddenly began to rush through his head. Thoughts he had hardly entertained in the light of dawn. But she was no longer his charge, so what was stopping him? 

 _Nothing_ , he thought to himself.  _Nothing at all._


	9. The Kiss

Cullen escorted Maggie to her new private quarters, but when she pushed open the door and stepped inside, he hesitated at the threshold. She leaned her staff against the wall and turned back to find him still standing just outside the door. She gave him a look of amused exasperation before moving to take her belongings from him. She tossed them carelessly onto the bed.

"Thank you for helping me. I'm sorry if I'm distracting you from your duties."

"No!" he said quickly, eager not to give her the wrong impression. "I mean, you're not distracting."

He looked at her as she stood quietly in the warm light cast by the room's fire and finally moved inside, allowing the door to shut behind him.

 _Maker, she's beautiful_ , he thought. Especially because she seemed not to know just how attractive she really was. Though mages and Templars were normally not close, it was hard not to be aware of each other in the tower. And he had been aware of her for a very long time now. But he was a Templar and she was a mage. She had lived with the other apprentices in their private dorms. Slept with them, ate with them, studied with them, bathed within feet of them.

Cullen knew that she was friends with several of the other apprentices, all males, and it had always caused a pang of jealousy to stab his heart. He had long since realized that he must be in love with her. Or was it more than that? Love, lust, passion, desire. It was all rolled into one, a great ball of yearning in his gut.

"Cullen?" Maggie's voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

"What? Oh, sorry." He allowed an uncharacteristically mischievous grin to tug at the corner of his mouth. "Well, I guess you are distracting. But that wasn't what I meant."

Maggie laughed and gave him an affectionate look. He returned it with so serious a gaze that the laughter died on her lips. He advanced into the room, towering over her in his armor, and she backed away instinctively. She came to a halt when she hit the wall behind her, but he continued to press toward her. Closer and closer until he was nearly touching her.

"What I meant," he said, his voice sounding gruff and unfamiliar even to himself, "was that you can come and see me anytime you want."

He reached out with one hand, grasping her chin and gently lifting her gaze to meet his own. He looked at her searchingly, seeing surprise, but no resistance there. He reminded himself that Maggie was his charge.

 _Not anymore_ , the other part of him whispered back.

But it still wasn't appropriate to have a relationship with her.

 _Why not_?

He wanted her so much it scared him. He felt his control began to crack and he finally let go. He leaned down toward her upturned face and finally kissed her. Slowly at first, but then deeper, more passionately. Tasting her, exploring her, reveling in the feel of her. She responded in kind and before he knew what was happening, they were pressing into one another, hands moving where even eyes hadn't dared before. A thrill of excitement shot through him, like a jolt of lightning. But then, just as suddenly, it was gone, leaving him feeling cold and confused. 

"Wait," he said, pulling back. He shook his head and began backing away from her, holding out his hands as though to fend her off. "Wait, I can't. I'm sorry."

And then he fled, leaving her looking hurt and confused behind him. Once outside, he shut the door and leaned back against it, his head in his hands.

 _What am I doing?_  he thought.  _Is this right?_

He didn’t know anymore. He pushed himself upright and hurried back to his patrol route, seeking comfort in its familiarity.


	10. Plans

Maggie sank onto her bed, still breathing heavily as she watched Cullen's retreating back. The door closing behind him with a horrible sense of finality. She looked around her new apartment. It was empty to the point of being barren and she felt a sudden wave of loneliness wash over her. She was so used to being surrounded by people, by noise, that she was quite unsure of what to do in the sudden stillness. Not wanting to remain now that Cullen had departed so abruptly, she thought perhaps she would go to the library. After all, Duncan had said he might find her later. Maybe he would look for her there.

When she thought of Duncan, Maggie recalled the details of his face, his hair, his voice. How he had held onto her hand while he stared so deeply into her eyes. It was as though he had been looking into her very soul. All else was driven from her thoughts. Before she realized what she was doing, she was hurrying across the room.

The moment Maggie stepped foot outside her chamber, however, a voice rang out. She jumped, turning to find Jowan coming toward her out of the nearest stairwell.

“There you are!” he said irritably. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Dammit, Jowan!" she cried, backing away. "You scared me.”

She turned around and continued down the hall toward the library, but Jowan was following at her heels.

"Wait!" he hissed, hurrying to keep up with her. “I want to talk to you."

“What about?"

“They're going to make me Tranquil.”

She stopped, giving him her full attention at last.

“What? But how do you know?”

“Look, come with me to the chapel and I'll tell you everything. Okay?"

Maggie hesitated, but then nodded. She was intrigued and it was still early. Plenty of people roamed the halls. She allowed Jowan to take the lead. He kept to the shadows, crossing the hall whenever there was a lit torch up ahead. Before long, they had reached the chapel. It was quite large, spanning the entire eastern half of the third floor. It was mostly open, connected by archways instead of doors. Small alcoves lined the walls and various niches had been set up for prayer and study.

Maggie followed Jowan as he zig-zagged his way through the room, finally reached a secluded nook in a far corner. Seeing no one around, he sat down, motioning for Maggie to join him at the table. The moment they sat down, a girl wearing initiate's robes joined them. It was as though she had been waiting for them to arrive. Jowan got up and grasped the girl's hand, whispering something in her ear before turning back to Maggie.

"Maggie, this is Lilly. Lilly, Maggie.”

"Jowan, what the hell is going on?"

He took a deep breath. "The thing is--Lilly and I have been seeing each other."

Maggie's mouth fell open in shock. She looked from one to the other, hardly believing what she was hearing.

"What?! But you can't! Initiates are forbidden from being in relationships, aren't they?"

"Nevermind that," Jowan jerked his head, as though ridding himself of an irksome fly. "That's not what I wanted to talk to you about. Look, Lilly’s the one who found the document on Greagoir's desk, okay? The one approving the Rite of Tranquility to be used on me. And it's already been signed. By Irving."

Maggie looked at Lilly, who nodded in confirmation.

“But why?" Maggie asked him, starting to feel nervous. "What exactly is it they suspect you of doing?”

After a brief pause, Jowan said, “There’s a rumor going around about me. People think I’m a blood mage.”

Maggie stared at Jowan, taking in the way he kept fidgeting with his hands and how his eyes darted nervously around the room. She looked at Lilly, who stood serenely next to him, not speaking.

"And are you?" she asked quietly, refusing to look away.

“Of course not!” Jowan replied angrily. “How could you even ask me that? I thought we were supposed to be friends.”

"So what exactly do you want me to do?"

"I want you to help me get out of here!"

"What?! Help you escape the tower? Do you know what that would mean if you're caught?"

"Shut up!" he hissed, glancing over his shoulder in alarm. "Of course I do. But I'd rather die than be made Tranquil anyway."

Maggie reached out and grasped Jowan's arm. "Jowan, I can't let you do this. They'll catch you!"

"They won't catch me," he said, withdrawing his arm from her. "Anders escaped."

"And they'll just bring him back again. You know they will. As long as they have your phylactery, they'll always be able to hunt you down!"

"Exactly," Jowan said, his voice dropping barely more than a whisper. "Once your phylactery is sent to Denerim, there's no hope. But I haven't been through my Harrowing yet. My phylactery is still here somewhere. In the tower. Right, Lilly?"

Lilly nodded.

“The Templars keep the vials sealed in a vault deep under the foundations of the tower," he continued. "The door to the vault can only be opened when a password is spoken by a Mage of the Circle. One who has already been through their Harrowing. Once I'm inside, I can destroy my phylactery and escape for good!"

Maggie felt her insides turn to ice. What on earth was he saying? Had this been his plan the entire time? Wait for her to be taken for her Harrowing and then use her to escape? Noting his growing impatience, she attempted to gather herself. 

"But, Jowan, if you try to steal your phylactery they'll send you to Aeonar!"

Maggie's voice dropped to a whisper as she uttered the feared name. The mage's prison. The trial by fire. The place of unspeakable horrors. But Jowan just shrugged her off once more.

"Not with your help. We can do this together!"

"How? They've already sent my phylactery to Denerim."

"We'll get it! We'll find a way. I promise."

Maggie looked back and forth between Lilly and Jowan.

 _No_ , she thought.  _This isn't right._

"Listen," she said finally. “I need some time to think this over. I’ll find you later, okay?”

"Okay," he replied grudgingly, "But hurry! I haven't got much time. Who knows when they'll come for me?"

Maggie nodded and left as quickly as she could without actually running. She wondered if it was possible that Jowan really was a blood mage. If he was, if this girl was already under his control...

She hurried off toward Irving's study, all thought of the library forgotten.


	11. Opportunities

Maggie arrived outside Irving's study and knocked on the open door. He looked up from his desk, surprised.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked.

"I--" She paused and glanced around the room.

"It's all right. You may speak freely."

"Well," she began again, nervously. "Something happened just now and I don't what I should do."

She stopped, looking down at her hands. She didn't know if she was doing the right thing, but what other option did she have? Karl was gone. Anders was gone. Who else did she have left? 

 _Cullen_ , her mind whispered against her will. But she pushed the thought angrily away. She couldn't go to him. Not now.

"What is it, Maggie?" Irving repeated with growing concern.

Maggie came to her decision. She relayed the details of what had just transpired, along with her suspicions about Lilly. When she finished speaking, the old man sighed wearily and stood up, motioning for Maggie to follow him. They crossed the large room to the fire where they sat on comfortable couches and chairs that were scattered in front of it. Large, heavy bookshelves lined the walls. They were filled with books, scrolls, and all kinds of glittering treasures. Irving looked around at these for a time, as though searching among them for the right words to use. At last, he spoke.

"You did well to tell me this. We were already aware of the situation, but we had no idea how far it had gone or who all was involved. Moreover, Greagoir may finally understand why I trust you."

"What do you mean?"

"We have known that someone passing information to Jowan for some time now. Greagoir suspected you, but I have assured him that it must be someone else. A member of the Chantry or a Templar. Of course, he was not sure if he should believe me. But now we know have proof. This explains everything."

"What should I do now? I told Jowan I would find him later."

"You will do nothing until we have resolved this situation," Irving snapped. Maggie looked surprised at the sudden harshness of his voice.

"But..." she stammered. "Wait. Are you really going to do it, then? Make him Tranquil?"

"Listen to me, Maggie. This is a more dangerous a situation than you can possibly realize. We have definite proof that he has been practicing blood magic. That kind of thing changes a person. I want you to return to your room and stay there until the Rite has been carried out. Only then will you be safe."

Maggie said nothing. She made to stand, but before she could, Irving spoke again.

"Did you escort Duncan back to his quarters earlier?"

Maggie's stomach squirmed at the mention of Duncan's name.

"Yes, I did."

"Good. Tell me, what did you think of him?"

"Well, I was happy to have the chance to speak with him," Maggie replied, embarrassed. "He seems like a great man."

"Yes, he is most honorable," Irving agreed, "Grey Wardens are peerless warriors who sacrifice all for our sakes. You can learn much from him."

Irving stopped, now watching Maggie intently.

"You have been offered a rare opportunity," he continued after a few minutes. "I was going to wait to tell you this, but it seems that circumstances are no longer under my control. Duncan has asked my permission to take you with him when he returns to Ostagar."

Maggie gasped and sat forward, her eyes wide. "What?! Me?"

"Yes, you," he replied, smiling now. "Understand this, however. Duncan wishes to recruit you into the Grey Wardens, not just into the king's army. Once you leave, you will not be coming back."

Maggie stared down into the fire for a long time, thinking. A Grey Warden? Her? Could it really be true? She imagined herself leaving the Circle, never to return. Going out into the wide world that she had never known seemed both exciting and terrifying. She thought about the Archdemon and the hordes of darkspawn waiting to crush all of Thedas and a brief flash of fear went through her. But then she saw Cullen's retreating back once more, and somehow that was even worse. She finally turned back to Irving, who was studying her with worried eyes. 

"Thank you, Irving," she said and he smiled, relieved.

"You are welcome, child," he said, patting her arm and smiling at her fondly. "Now, do an old man a favor and go straight back to your quarters. No dawdling. Stay there until I send for you. And please, be careful."

Irving moved back around to sit behind his desk and Maggie left his study. She headed back to her room, lost in thoughts of a future she never dreamed she could have.


	12. The Summons

For anyone who cherished a love of history, the senior mages' library in Ferelden's Circle Tower was a treasure trove of ancient texts. Enormous wooden bookcases lined the stone walls, filled to brimming with records, archives, and journals. But the real treasure, at least in Duncan's opinion, was the stockpile of aged maps dating back to antiquity.

He'd studied maps that revealed the shifting borders throughout Thedas as the Tevinter Imperium grew and fell. Maps that explained how the Dales were given to the Dalish as a remembrance of their loyalty before being drawn back within Orlais' border once more. Maps that recorded the rise of the Free Marches as it consolidated itself into a great Nation of Nations through the collective goal of continued independence.

It was early the next day and Duncan was wandering through the long aisles of ancient scrolls, thinking to pass the time there until Maggie found him. He selected a few documents and settled himself into a cozy nook in the corner to read. Before long, however, his mind began to wander. It directed itself, at first, to its established path of the darkspawn and the Archdemon. This thought soon led to the memory of why he had come here in the first place.

When only seven mages had arrived at Ostagar following King Cailan's summons, along with a note from Irving explaining the situation, Duncan had asked the king's permission to come to the tower personally and request more assistance for the coming battle. Upon arriving, Irving had introduced him to the girl, Maggie. He knew at once that she was the one he would with him. Not only for her own good, but for all of Thedas. There was something about her; something that would change the world if only it were given the chance to shine.

Thinking of Maggie, he once again saw her long black hair framing her softly rounded face, her full lips, and her large, dark eyes. He could smell the sweet floral fragrance that had lingered on his hand after he had held hers. He shook himself. He shouldn't think of it. He had begun to hear the Calling recently and every Grey Warden knew what that meant. And yet, it had been many a long year since he had met anyone who made his pulse quicken and his heart pound. Someone who drove every other thought out of his head. Every thought except the thought of kissing her-- 

Lost in pleasant reflection, Duncan didn't realize at first that a messenger had appeared with a summons for him. Nodding his thanks, he took the hastily written note, examined it, and headed straight for Irving's study.

He arrived to find that Greagoir and another young man had already joined Irving. He peered around, taking in the stricken faces of the men.

"What is it?" he asked. "What has happened?"

"Have you seen Maggie since she walked you to your room yesterday?" Irving asked.

Duncan felt a cold weight drop into the pit of his stomach. "No, I haven't. I was hoping to meet her while I was in the library, but she has not arrived."

"And Cullen," Irving continued, turning toward the youth. "You say you helped her move her things to her new quarters? And that was the last time you saw her?"

Cullen turned scarlet and nodded at the floor. Duncan narrowed his eyes as he studied the youth. 

"Then I must've been the last to see her," Irving continued. " She came to my study last night to speak with me. After we talked, I sent her back to her chambers. But when I sent Cullen to check on her this, she wasn't there. Isn't that right, son?"

Cullen nodded his agreement, unaware of Duncan's continued scrutiny.

"When I got to her room, the door was open, but it seemed like she hadn't been back there at all. Her things were still lying on the bed and nothing else looked like it had been touched."

"I do not think she would have ignored my request. I warned her of the danger I suspected her to be in--" Irving began.

Duncan stiffened, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest.

"Danger!?" Cullen exclaimed. "What do you mean?" 

Irving and Greagoir looked at each other.

"Maggie came to me last night with disturbing news. Jowan has been seeing an Initiate by the name of Lilly. We believe he has been controlling her with blood magic for some time now. She has been passing him information, including the fact that we have approved the Rite of Tranquility to be used on him. He asked Maggie to help him destroy his phylactery and escape the tower."

Cullen gasped.

"We must go after her at once!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. Everyone turned to look at him. He was white and shaking, and his hands were balled into fists.

"Wait!" Greagoir shouted, moving to blocking Cullen's path. "We can't just barge off without a plan!"

"He's right," Irving agreed. "We're dealing with a blood mage here! We must handle this with great care!"

While the three men began to argue amongst themselves, Duncan slipped silently from the room.


	13. Preparations

"Duncan, we need to head him off at the vaults--" Irving began, turning to address Duncan but stopping short.

Cullen followed his glance and realized that the darkness that had held Duncan was now only shadows and gloom. Startled, he looked back at Irving and Greagoir, but the two men just shared an exasperated glance and continued as though nothing had happened.

"I will gather as many men as I can and head to the main hall. We need to block all access to the exit," Greagoir said.

"Go, then. I will meet Duncan at the vaults. You must have your men ready before we move to confront Jowan."

Greagoir nodded shortly and exited the room. Irving waited until he was gone, peeking around the corner of the door after him. When Greagoir's footsteps could no longer be heard echoing down the hall, Irving shut his study door and turned back to Cullen.

"Cullen, you must listen to me."

Cullen said nothing. His hands were still clenched into fists, his nails biting into his palms. How could he have let this happen? If he had just stayed with her--

"Cullen," Irving said again, shaking him a little. "Maggie is in grave danger. It is entirely possible that she is already under Jowan's control. And if she is, Greagoir will likely try to send her to Aeonar."

Cullen's eyes widened in shock and horror. 

"What?!" he exclaimed. "But why would he do that?"

"Because he will see it as the safest course of action. He will want to be sure she is no longer being controlled and that she has not been possessed."

"But we can't let that happen!" Cullen cried out in alarm.

"No, we can't," Irving replied calmly, looking at Cullen very seriously now.

"But if Greagoir authorizes it, I can't stand against him!"

"I said  _we_  can't. You are forgetting. There is a Grey Warden here tonight."

"What must I do?" Cullen said at once.

"Find some traveling gear and then go to her room and gather her things. Be as quick as you can. Speak to no one. Then meet me down in the entrance hall. Do you understand?"

Cullen nodded and left the room at once. He hurried through the corridors as quickly as he dared, not wanting to attract attention. The halls were beginning to fill with people now. Templars heading to their posts. Mages going to their classes. Some of the Templars waved as he passed, but Cullen just nodded and continued on. Finally arriving back at his quarters, he took a moment to look around. He grabbed his traveling cloak and then his eyes fell on his old, frayed leather bag. He had owned it since he had been a boy. His sisters and his brother had all chipped in to buy it for him when he had finally been accepted as a trainee. He looked down at his name that his sister Mia had stitched onto it in meticulous letters.  _Cullen Stanton Rutherford, III,_  they read in tiny gold lettering. He grabbed this too and then hurried back to Maggie's room.

His heart was beating hard in his chest when he arrived. He cast a glance around the room. He didn't want to be doing this. He wanted to be helping her. Helping to find the one person who had been able to touch his heart. Hot tears began to prickle at the corners of his eyes but he brushed then roughly away. He had to be strong. Strong for her. For Maggie.

Cullen crossed the nearly empty room and grabbed Maggie's staff from the wall. Then he moved to the bed and studied the contents that still lay as she had left them the day before. There was a new robe, this one a deep purple with silver stitching along the seams. He laid this neatly in the bottom of the bag, then placed a few other things on top of it. He moved to the dresser, blushing as he opened them and removed her underclothes. When he got to the bottom drawer, he saw a small book lying in the corner. He picked it up, examining the outside carefully. It was bound in a dark navy blue leather. He opened it and saw his own face staring back up at him. It was a hand-drawing, and Maggie's signature was scrawled across the bottom, marking it as her own. 

He flipped through the book to find that it was filled with drawings. Many of them were of him in various poses. Laughing, talking, praying. A small charcoal drawing caught his eye, and he pulled it from among the contents of the sketchbook. It was a self-portrait of Maggie. The panic and fear he had been fighting back all morning suddenly overwhelmed him. Tears splattered the page and he covered his face with his hand, finally letting it out. He took the little picture and tucked it into his robes. Then he ran back downstairs to join the others.


	14. The Confrontation

"Duncan!" Irving was calling through the door to his chamber. "Duncan! Are you in there? Come, I will show you the way!"

Duncan moved to the heavy, wooden door and swung it open. Irving stood on the other side, looking anxious. Duncan stepped out and they hurried down the hall while he strapped his sword to his belt and sheathed his daggers.

Irving whispered urgently at Duncan's elbow as he rushed to keep up. "I have done what I could to ensure Greagoir's trust in Maggie."

He glanced sideways at Duncan. "And I have spoken with Cullen. He is gathering her things now."

Duncan's eyes narrowed and his frown deepened, but he said nothing. They quickened their speed, walking through the crowds in silence. They had made it into an empty stairwell leading to the lower floors before Irving ventured to continue.

"I am sorry to have to ask this of you--" he began, but Duncan cut him off.

"You do not need to ask anything of me," he said fiercely. "You asked her about the Joining, yes? What was her response?"

"She wishes to go with you," Irving said. 

"Then she will go with me and no one else."

"Good," Irving said as they arrived on the lower level.

"What about Greagoir?" Duncan asked.

"He's gathering a team to block the exit from the main hall." 

Duncan nodded approvingly and they hurried on. The lower floors were empty now, the Apprentices in class and the Templars at their posts. Minutes later, the two men arrived at the storage room entrance. It was located in a small chamber off the main hall. The stone walls were bare, with only a torch settled here and there along it. There were a few benches lining the walls as well, but no other decoration. There were only two entrances to the room, plus the doorway that led down into the vaults. Aside from the columns to the right of the archway leading out into the entrance hall, it was just stone and wood and nothing else.

"When will Greagoir arrive?" Duncan asked.

"Soon," Irving responded. "He should have men covering both exits before we go inside."

As they were considering what to do next, they heard footsteps coming from the other side of the door. Irving stayed where he was but Duncan faded silently into the shadows the columns provided. He only had one purpose to fulfill now.

The door swung open and Jowan came through, looking exultant. He was flanked by Maggie and another girl. Lilly, Duncan supposed. He took a deep breath and stilled himself. He had to wait until Irving and Greagoir could contain the situation. He might only have one chance at this. At this thought, he moved back deeper into the shadows.

Jowan stopped abruptly at the sight of Irving. He looked around but seeing no one else there, he relaxed and a sneer spread across his face.

"Well, if it isn't Old Man Irving," he taunted. "What are you doing here?"

Irving ignored him, speaking instead to Maggie. "Maggie? Are you all right?"

Maggie stood perfectly still. She made no sign of recognition, nor made any attempt to escape. Jowan began to laugh at the old man's pain, which was plainly visible upon his face. But he was cut short as Greagoir, Cullen, and a whole host of Templars burst into the room. 


	15. Blood Magic

Cullen rushed into the chamber along with his Commander and fellow Templars. They stopped as a group and Cullen took in the scene around him. Jowan stood in front of the storage room door with Maggie on his right and Lilly on his left. Irving had his back to them, standing directly between the two groups.

Cullen could see panic beginning to overtake him as he cast his eyes wildly around the room. But when his gaze fell upon Cullen, a twisted smile spread across his face. He took a few quick steps backward and grabbed Maggie and swung her around to face him. He looked right at Cullen's and then gave her a long and deliberate kiss. Maggie didn't react. She just stood there like an empty vessel, neither reciprocating or fighting back. Cullen cried out and made to move toward her, but Greagoir blocked him before he could.

"Jowan, let the girls go!" Gregoir shouted. 

Jowan laughed cruelly, holding Maggie in front of him like a shield. He began to back toward the exit, moving behind Lilly to do so. The Templars squirmed. They wanted to follow him but they had not been given leave to do so. Cullen looked at Greagoir and, to his surprise, saw a worried expression cross the stony features. 

"Jowan, please! We don't want anyone to get hurt. Just let the girls go!"

Jowan suddenly flung Maggie toward the archway and grabbed Lilly instead. There was a flash of silver as he pulled his hand across her throat. A heartbeat passed. And then blood began to gush from the girl's throat. It was shockingly red against her white face. The girl slumped to the floor, but the blood--the blood did not.

"No!" Cullen cried out. He watched in horror as the blood flowed out of the girl and into the air. It formed itself into something resembling a human form. The  _thing_  floated behind Jowan for a moment, as though waiting for instructions. Then Jowan let the dark power rush forward from him. It flew out at them with a force Cullen would never have believed. It hit the group of Templars full force and threw them backward where they crashed to the floor in a great heap of metal and limbs. Then it dissipated. In the confusion, Jowan ran. 

Cullen roared. He had never felt so enraged in all his life. He had heard of the horrors of blood magic, but he had never before seen it before with his own eyes. And he never wanted to see it again. It was as though all his childhood fears had come to life before his very eyes.

Cullen began to struggle wildly, trying to extricate himself, mad to get to Jowan. But Jowan had already disappeared. He had grabbed Maggie and was out of sight before the Templars could untangle themselves. When they finally had, Greagoir began to call out orders, trying to still the panic going through the men.

"Blood magic" _,_  they whispered. _"_ Real blood magic."

Greagoir sent a small group of men to quietly remove Lilly's body to a side room for privacy. He sent a larger group to search the vaults below. The rest rushed after Jowan. Cullen stood next to his Commander, his eyes still fixed on the spot where he had last seen Maggie. What would happen to her? And where was Duncan? Would he really go after her? And then a loud voice rang out across the chamber, pulling Cullen from his thoughts.

"Knight-Commander!"

Greagoir turned toward the Templar striding across the room. 

"Sir! We've--ah--found the blood mage's phylactery."

"What do you mean, 'found'?"

"The vial was shattered, sir."

"Dammit!" he swore and then sighed deeply. "Very well. Report to your Commander."

"Yes, sir."

"Cullen. Stay with Irving. I must report this to Denerim at once."

Cullen nodded and Greagoir set off upstairs to draft a note, which he would send to Denerim by courier. As soon as he was gone, a figure slid out of the shadows and hurried over to them. At this, a faint spark of hope flickered back into life in Cullen's heart. Without a word, he rushed off and grabbed Maggie's things from where he had stored them. He was back in moments, shoving them into Duncan's arms.

"Promise me you'll take care of her," he whispered urgently.

"I will not allow her to come to any harm."

"Promise me!" he insisted, grabbing Duncan's arm and looking into his eyes.

Duncan looked back at the boy once more. Something about him reminded him of Alistair. And it was obvious that he cared for the girl. At last, he nodded.

"She will have me as her shield for as long as I am able. I promise."

At these last words, Cullen seemed almost to sag with relief.

"Thank you," he said quickly. "Now go, before the Knight-Commander comes back. Save her, please!"

Irving nodded his agreement. There was nothing else to be said. And then Duncan was gone.


	16. Savior

Sound came back to Maggie first. She thought she could hear someone speaking softly nearby. Soon after, she began to hear other things. Movement. A faint rustling sound.

Touch came back to her next as she started to feel the pain of her body coming through the fog of her awareness. She realized that she was sitting on cold, hard ground, but she had no idea of where she was or how she had come to be there.

Emotions came next. Confusion. Fear. Hurt. Sadness. As they came back to her, one by one, they each threatened to overwhelm her in turn. The pain of her mind joined the pain of her heart until it became almost too much to bear. She shivered in fearful anticipation, wondering what had happened to her. It was as though someone had violated her very soul.

As she lay in the dark pain and swirling turmoil, Maggie sensed someone moving close to her. A face came into focus over hers. Dark hair and eyes. Sharp nose. Thin mouth. She flinched against her will and the eyes widened in surprise.

"You're awake. How can that be?" Jowan said.

Maggie tried to respond but her voice refused to come to her aid.

"So, not entirely free then? You're a strong one. I'll give you that."

Jowan smiled down at her, his face only inches away. He traced the lines of her cheekbones down to her lips, leaning close. Too close.

"You always were a pretty little thing," he said softly. He ran his fingers lightly over her chin and down her throat.

"Stop!" she cried, finally finding her voice. She tried to pull away from his touch, but she couldn't move her head. It was like being paralyzed. And it was terrifying.

Jowan saw the fear in her face and laughed. It was cold and callous and unfeeling. Maggie stared at him in horror. This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't be. But there he was, his familiar figure in his apprentice robes. His dark hair nearly reaching his shoulders.

 _I've been so blind,_  she thought wretchedly. She had felt sorry for Jowan. Made excuses for him. Tried to help him. Worst of all, she had trusted him even though her instincts had cried out against it. And this was how he had repaid her. With betrayal. Who knew what he had planned to do to her. What he had already done... An involuntary shudder ran through her and she pushed the thought away.

Jowan turned away from her, moving back toward the fire. She began to look around wildly as far as she could see without turning her head. She tried to take in her surroundings and think of what to do while she still had control over her own mind. She was on the ground, leaning back against a fallen tree. The small fire burned brightly to her right. They were camped next to a ridge of thick trees. Maggie focused on them, wondering if she could hide in there. If only she could regain control of her body. While she concentrated on moving her legs, she heard a soft rustling sound coming from just beyond her view of the closest trees. She glanced back at Jowan. He hadn't noticed it. Had she really heard it? Perhaps she had only  _wished_  she had heard something. 

She stopped trying to move and began to strain to hear instead. Finally, the sound came again. It was closer to her this time. It was a soft movement, like a foot sliding across dry leaves. Jowan still seemed unaware of it. He was pacing back and forth by the fire now, mumbling to himself about something. She trained her concentration on him instead. He was speaking quickly and in broken streams. It was difficult to piece together. He seemed to be arguing with himself about something. Maggie held her breath and concentrated on listening with all her might. And then it came to her. He was trying to decide what to do with her. To keep her or to kill her.  

And then a whistle split the air. Jowan's head snapped toward the noise at once. His gaze aimed directly at the line of trees. Before he could move again, a dagger flew through the air. It found its mark, sliding deep into his throat. Blood gushed forth almost at once, steaming hot in the cold night air. He fell forward onto his knees, hands grasping the dagger as though to pull it free, but his screams died in a bloody gurgle. His eyes drifted closed and he fell backward with a heavy thud.

Maggie screamed in horror, waiting for the next attack. Her body was released entirely from Jowan's spell as the life slipped out of him and she tried desperately to get up. Who had thrown the dagger? She strained her eyes, trying to make out a figure in the tree line. Movement. Anything at all. Was it a Templar? Seconds ticked by, seeming to take hours. And then a shape finally materialized out of the darkness. Golden skin. Dark hair. Strong jaw covered in a neat beard. Grey eyes glinting in the firelight.

"Duncan," Maggie breathed, her eyes widening in disbelief. He had come for her. He had really come for her. 

Duncan bent down and scooped her into his arms. She threw her own arms around his neck and laid her head on his chest, weeping with relief. She could feel his heart beating its steady beat beneath his leathers. 

"Thank you," she sobbed into his chest. "Thank you for coming for me."


	17. The First Night

Duncan carried Maggie through the trees and back to his horse. He placed her on the saddle first, then took the reigns from the limb where he had lashed it. He guided the horse out of the woods on foot until they reached the road and then mounted behind her. They rode quietly for a time, Maggie quickly drifting off into an uneasy but exhausted sleep. A cold wind blew through the night and she shivered, snuggling closer to him. Duncan shifted to hold the reins with one hand and wrapped the other arm tightly around her waist. He pulled her inside his heavy gray cloak, letting it cover them both. She let her head fall back against his chest, bouncing a little as they rode silently southward in the deepening night.

Maggie soon began to show faint signs of stirring. It had been a long night and Duncan didn't want her to wake yet. He began to keep a lookout for a place to set up camp. After a short time, he spotted a little clearing just off the road and guided his horse to it. Once off the path, he dismounted and retrieved a blanket from his saddle bag. Then he took Maggie gently down from the horse and placed her on it. He took off his cloak and laid it over her. He stood there for a minute, watching her sleep. Then he strode some distance away, looking for a place to rest. He wasn't sure what she would remember upon waking and he did not wish to startle her.

Moonlight shone through the thick blanket of leaves, dappling the lush grass all around him. Duncan found a large, old tree to settle himself against, appreciating the rare moment of peace he was being afforded. Sooner than he would have thought possible, sleep threatened to overwhelm him. Guarded though he was, he felt a strange lack of vulnerability in the girl's presence. She flitted back through his mind once more and it was that which he took with him as he sank down into slumber.

A breeze made its way through the thick trees, making Maggie shiver. She sat up, Duncan's cloak falling off as she did so. Realizing that this is what had been covering her, she pulled it on and drew it close around her. It was long and thick and gray, and it smelled like him. She looked around the little clearing where they had set up camp and found him leaned back against an old tree. The tree was magnificent; strong and protective, just like its companion. Her stomach squirmed at the sight of him, and she blushed deeply. Not wanting to wake him, but cold and uncertain in the darkness, Maggie got up and walked over to where he was sitting.

Duncan had placed himself between two large roots of the great tree, but there was still a little space left to one side of him. She was feeling unsure of herself, so she settled in next to him without quite touching him. Duncan intimidated her and excited her in equal measure. She sat staring out around the clearing, thinking. It was both beautiful and eerie in the moonlight. Shadows stretched and changed, the leaves and grass moved silently around her, the wind whispered to her in chill bursts. She suddenly felt small and alone in the vast expanse of the land. She thought of Cullen and smiled sadly. She felt a sharp pang of grief at the thought that she might never see him again. She recalled his red hair glinting in the torchlight. His shy smile and awkward manner. Their growing feelings for each other. His back as he rushed from the room, leaving her feeling hurt and confused. But all of that was in the past now.

 _So, this is it_ , she thought.  _I'm never going back_.

Suddenly her thoughts jumped to Jowan and a powerful surge of emotions ran through her. Feelings of betrayal and violation chief were among them. She would never have considered him capable of such things. She recalled the feeling as he forced his thoughts into her mind, like slimy tendrils grasping at her consciousness. And though she had struggled with all her might, she had been unable to resist him. 

Maggie drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, hugging herself tightly. She wondered again what else he had done to her. The way he had been looking at her, how he had touched her. Tears sprang to her eyes, thick and hot. Before she could stop herself, she started to cry. After a moment, she felt a hand slide across her shoulders. At his touch, she turned and flung her arms around his neck, just as she had done back at the campsite. Duncan froze for a moment and then he reached over and pulled her into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, burying his face in her hair and rocking her gently as she cried.

After some time, Maggie quieted, but she didn't attempt to pull away from him. Instead, she rested her head against his chest, allowing him to continue rocking her. They stayed like that for a long time, the tension between them gradually changing. And then Duncan broke it. Moving her gently from his lap, he stood up and offered her his hand as he had done the first time she had met him. Maggie took it and he helped her to her feet.

“Come,” he said. “Speak with me. I would like to know everything that happened. If you feel that you can tell me.”

Maggie nodded, her stomach squirming wildly as she followed him back to the road.


	18. On the Road

They ate breakfast while Maggie relayed to Duncan what had happened after she left Irving's study. How, lost in her thoughts, her feet had beat the familiar bath back to her old dormitory without realizing she was doing it. How Jowan had been waiting there for her. She had tried to talk him out of his plan, but he had told Lilly was waiting for them, had dragged her along with him. She had gone with him, still arguing. And then he had pulled her into an alcove.

She grew silent at this, remembering the ordeal. He had pushed her up against the wall, pressing his body into hers, their lips almost touching. His eyes had grown until the dark pools of black was all she could see. And then--nothing. In her surprise, he had been able to capture her quite easily. 

"And the next thing I remember, I was in the camp where you...where you found me," she finished. Though it was hard, it felt good to talk about what had happened to her. To admit her vulnerabilities without being seen as weak. 

They packed up and continued moving South. As day turned to night, the wind began to bring a chill with it. Maggie shivered a little and Duncan drew her closer to him. She leaned her body back against his broad chest, the movement of the horse making their hips sway in unison. She bit her lip, glad that he could see her face at that moment.

A short while later, they arrived at a clearing next to the riverbank surrounded by large boulders that blocked the wind enough to build a small fire. They stopped and Duncan dismounted, lifting Maggie easily down after him. They heated their evening meal and ate in a companionable silence. After a while, Maggie made to move closer to the fire, but Duncan brought his arm around her shoulders instead. He pulled her close and they sat with their backs against the rocks, blocked from the wind. Grinning a little in spite of herself, Maggie snuggled closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder and staring out into the night. The moon shone down on the lake, reflecting in long arcs throughout the shimmers of surrounding stars, like two heavens mirroring one another.

"It's so beautiful," she said.

"Yes," Duncan replied, twisting a long strand of her hair around his finger. "It is a reminder of what we fight for. The freedom of all men, our continued existence, our ability to find beauty and truths in the world around us."

Maggie lifted her head a little to look at him, and he let her hair trail out from his fingers. His face was grave and his jaw was set.

"You're a good man, Duncan," she said.

He looked down at her and smiled, the lines around his eyes and mouth softening. 

"No, I am just an old man who remembers to look at the world through the eyes of youth."

Maggie smiled back. "You're not old."

"You are too kind."

"I'm not being kind."

She pulled back a little to look at him. He didn't move or speak, just looked at her as though waiting for something and she thought perhaps he was unsure of her intentions. She thought about that herself for a moment. Though she cared for Cullen, he had left her. And they were gone now. She would probably never see him again. Duncan, on the other hand, was here. He had saved her, taken her away from whatever terrible fate that had been awaiting her. After her ordeal with Jowan, she wasn't sure how long it would be before she could put her trust in people again. But there was one person she did trust--entirely and with no hesitation.

She brought her free hand up, sliding her fingers gently up the back of his neck, but he caught her hand and brought it to his chest instead.

"We mustn't."

“Why not?”

She pulled her hand back from his, feeling hurt and confused. He let her go, looking at her for a long time. And then he stood up, his back to her.

“I do not wish to take advantage of you."

“You aren’t taking advantage of me if I want you to.” 

“That is not necessarily true," he reasoned.

"I'm not a child," she countered.

Duncan bowed his head, then turned back and knelt down to look at her. "You have just been through a traumatic experience. You are alone and afraid. And there are other things...”

He trailed off, shaking his head. She looked at him, waiting for him to go on, but instead, he stood up and walked back to the horse. He opened the saddlebag and took out two smaller bags, bringing them back with him. One, he kept, but the other he tossed to Maggie. She caught it, surprised. 

"What's this?"

"Look at it."

She looked at the outside of the frayed leather bag, her fingers soon finding Cullen's name. She opened it to find all her belongings, her spare robe, even her sketch pad. She pulled it out and began to flip through the pages. How glad she was now for those sketches. 

"Thank you," she said, brushing the tears from her eyes and hugged the pack tightly to her chest. 

"Thank Cullen," he replied. 


	19. Questions

It was a few days later and Duncan and Maggie lay under the stars, she asked him about Ostagar and the other recruits they would meet there. Duncan lay quietly for a long time. He did not have an answer. It could very well end up with Maggie's body rejecting the blood of the Joining. And then there was the battle. The overwhelming number of darkspawn, which only seemed to increase no matter how many battles they won. The Archdemon the Wardens had all sensed. There was a very real chance they would not even be alive a week after their arrival.

"Duncan?"

"Hm?"

Maggie sat up a little to look him in the eye.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied automatically. She quirked an eyebrow at him and he chuckled.

"I'm sorry. I was just distracted. It really is nothing."

He smiled and she laughed. She made his heart feel lighter than it had in an age. 

 _But the Calling_ , he reminded himself, frowning again.  _It is my duty to end this Blight or die trying._

"Well, there will be two other recruits will attend the Joining with you. And the newest member of our order, Alistair, will lead you in preparing for the rite."

"Will you be there?"

"Yes, I will be there."

"What is the Joining?"

"I--cannot tell you. I am sorry."

Maggie continued to study him.

"I understand," she said, finally.

Duncan smiled to himself, appreciating her shrewdness as well as her acceptance of the situation. Courage in the face of the unknown was a rare quality. He turned his own head to look at her. He could smell her hair, so soft and sweet. Like flowers. He thought it must be part of her magic, for no ordinary woman ever smelled so sweet.

"Alistair," Maggie said. "What's he like?"

"Well, he reminds me a great deal of his father, actually. He is as innocent and carefree as a child, but hard-headed and stubborn."

Ducan smiled sadly, thinking of Maric.

"About six months ago, I found him stuck in the Chantry, desperately unhappy but resigned to his fate. So, I did what I could to free him. They weren't too happy about it either, now that I come to think about it."

Duncan chuckled, thinking of the outrage he had caused upon his insistence that he take Alistair with him. He had ended up invoking the Right of Conscription and they had left in an uproar. But he could tell Alistair had enjoyed it as much as he had and a strong bond had soon formed between them.

"Why?" Maggie asked when he didn't continue. "What happened? Who was his father?"

"Let's not talk about that right now," he said. 

Duncan rolled onto his side, looking down at her now. He made a move as though to stroke her cheek, but then he stopped. It was hard to keep telling himself all the reasons they shouldn't be together. Not when she was so willing. But she was so young. So trusting. It wouldn't be right.

He brushed her hair lightly from her forehead and gave her a light kiss there instead.

"Goodnight, Maggie."

"Goodnight, Duncan."


	20. Ostagar

Before long, Duncan and Maggie were arriving in Lothering. They stopped to restock supplies for the final leg of the journey. Maggie was beginning to get nervous. The reality of her situation lay just ahead of them in the form of Ostagar and the Joining ritual.

They traveled more swiftly and slept less soundly as they entered the Korcari Wilds. The lands grew drier and more sparse the further south they traveled. The green meadows of Redcliffe were soon long gone with nothing but desolation stretching ahead of them. The morning of their arrival came all too soon, the broken fortress looming into sight as they drew near. They were within an hour's ride of the tower Duncan stopped and dismounted. He lifted Maggie down after him and they sat together on a nearby log. Duncan gazed out at the landscape, Maggie by his side, feeling awkward.

"I wish to speak with you," Duncan said finally, not looking at her. Maggie couldn't think of anything to say to this, so she simply waited for him to continue.

"I have learned at great cost that the weight of regret is not something easy to bear. I will have no such regrets. I do not know what is in store for us, save many perils. Death lies on all sides. Part of being a Grey Warden is sacrificing ourselves entirely for the greater good. Our names, our previous lives, our emotional ties. We sacrifice all to spare the world from another Blight. And the time for my sacrifice may be now."

Maggie stared at him, shocked. She hadn't expected this and she wasn't quite sure what to say in return. Duncan reached up and removed his cloak, then draped it around her, using it to pull her close. They stayed like that for a long time. She stared up at him, breath held, but he made no further move. He simply stared down at her sadly, and then he let her go and took a step back. He walked back to the horse, not looking at her again. She stayed there for a minute, feeling as though she had missed something, somehow. Finally, she turned and followed him back to the road. 

When they arrived at the tower a short time later, they left the horse at the outskirts where a stable had been set up. They continued on foot down the path to the main hold of Ostagar Fortress. The path that led through the courtyard was thin and overgrown. The crumbling rocks and abandoned lodgings felt forlorn in the twilight, as though the foundations were crumbling around them. A few Wardens milled about on the bridge as they crossed, but none approached, giving the proper distance that Duncan's rank demanded. Maggie began to feel a little uncomfortable. It was odd seeing the way the men treated him after all the time they had spent alone together, and it made her wonder just how little she knew about him. 

Duncan filled her in on the progress of the war as they made their way through the throngs of people to the camp. There were pitiful few Wardens left in Ferelden now. As Knight-Commander of this region, it had been Duncan's impossible task to build a crew strong enough to beat back the endless darkspawn rising from the forests. Meanwhile, the King's general, Loghain, refused to accept help from the people that had once stolen their freedom. And the King himself seemed to want to play pretend, as though he were in some glorious tale.

Maggie stared around her in fascination as they approached the main camp. She was used to the quiet bustle of the Circle Tower, where everything was in order save the occasional fire inevitably set by some new apprentice. But here, they were surrounded by the sounds of people talking and dogs barking; the mingling smells of cooking food and sweaty bodies. There were people everywhere, fighting and training and talking. As the evening drew on, bonfires were being lit, and there were tents set up in small clumps about the remains of the once-mighty tower.

Duncan marched through the throng with Maggie at his heels and the crowd parted respectfully for him, curious gazes following the pair. They soon arrived at a tent near a large campfire and Duncan threw down his packs and stretched as though he was home at last.

"Well, here we are," he said, eyeing her. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm just tired, that's all."

"I see. You are welcome to stay here while I see to accommodations for you." 

He strode off away from the light of the fire and was soon out of sight. Maggie stood and walked in the opposite direction, drawn by the sound of dogs barking and whining. She wandered up to a wooden fence where another Warden was standing, looking at something on the other side. Following his gaze, she saw a wounded Mabari hound cringing against the back wall.

"What's wrong with him?" she asked the Warden, who started and looked around to see Maggie standing there.

"Well, he went and got himself poisoned by the darkspawn. He swallowed some of the creature's blood," he continued, seeing the confusion on Maggie's face. "These creatures fight alongside their masters. If they swallow the darkspawn's blood when they attack the creature, they usually die within a few hours. But this one is showing promise."

Mabaris were massive creatures, and incredibly dangerous. But they were also extremely loyal pets. They were at least as intelligent as their chosen companions and often fought side by side with them in battle. This one was brown with spots of white on his ears and feet. She noticed that he had what seemed to be blood on his coat, and she pointed it out to the Warden. As he began to answer, a voice from behind her spoke, making her jump.

"That's not blood; that's kaddis."

"What's kaddis?" Maggie asked, turning around to see who spoke. A man was standing a few yards away, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. He appeared to be the head of a small band of men, the rest of whom were keeping their distance. They each had a hound at their side, and each hound was covered in stripes of paint similar to the one in the pen.

"Warpaint," he replied simply, staring at her with interest. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Maggie. I just arrived with Duncan."

The Ash Warrior looked taken aback. "You're the new Warden recruit? Well, I guess those guys will take anyone they can get at this point."

Maggie bristled at this. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Think about it, sweetheart."

"Do you talk to everyone like that?"

"If I feel like it," he said, leering at her. "C'mon, honey, we've got better uses for you. I hear mages like it hot. Is that true?"

The other men laughed and eyed her appreciatively. Maggie reddened with embarrassment and anger. She began to retort when she saw his face change and the laughter of the men behind him died abruptly. She looked over her shoulder to find Duncan standing behind her. He was looking coldly at the men, who all backed up by a pace or two. The leader, however, stood up straight and uncrossed his arms, glaring at Duncan. Duncan walked forward, looking past Maggie toward the men.

"They're Ash Warriors," he said. And then he turned his back on them, disregarding them completely.

"Do not let their words affect you. What is their worth compared to yours?" he said, taking Maggie's hand and guiding her gently along with him. "Come. You should get some rest. It's been a long day, and there is much to do tomorrow."

She went with him gladly, ignoring the stares that followed them.


	21. A Surprise Visit

Duncan led Maggie back to the tent. 

"It will take them time to set up quarters for you. You may stay here until then if you wish," he said.

She blushed, looking back up at him. Fire danced in his warm, brown eyes. 

"Really?"

"Of course." 

She began to go into the tent, but paused at the entrance.

"Aren't--aren't you coming?"

"There are things I must attend to. I will be back."

She hesitated, then nodded and went in. She lay down on her blankets and in what seemed like no time, she was asleep. 

It was much later when the tent flap lifted and someone came in. A gust of cold wind rushed into the tent with them, making Maggie shiver in her sleep. She suddenly sat up, looking around her in confusion.

"Duncan?"

But it wasn't Duncan. It was a younger man, about her age, with lighter skin and red hair like Cullen's. And she couldn't help but notice that he was quite good-looking.

"No, actually," he laughed. "I was looking for Duncan myself."

"Oh. Well, he said he'd be back but I guess he's not here."

She blushed at the obviousness of this statement.

"Right," he said, laughing again. "And who are you again?"

"I'm Maggie. Duncan brought me back with him from the Circle of Magi."

"Oh!" he said, sounding surprised. "Right, sorry. I knew he was bringing someone with him, but I wasn't expecting, uh, you." 

"You knew I was coming?" she asked him, finally looking up at him in her surprise. His eyes were sparkling and a mischievous smile played on his lips.

"Oh yes, Duncan sent word ahead of the, ah, 'new recruit.' He speaks very highly of you, you know." 

He cleared his throat. "Well, I should be going--"

But before he could leave, Duncan came in. He stopped, looking from the visitor down to Maggie, sitting embarrassed on the floor of the tent. He smiled, amused at her discomfort.

"Yes, Alistair, what is it?" he said.

Her ears pricked up at the name. She listened intently while trying not to look too interested.

"They sent me to get you--They're ready."

Duncan looked sharply at Alistair and then over to Maggie. An expression of concern came over his face. He nodded once.

"All right. We will be there shortly. Gather Daveth and Ser Jory and meet us in the courtyard."

Alistair nodded and ducked out of the tent.

"What's going on?" she asked Duncan, noting his expression.

"We are about to start the Joining," he said. 

He paused, looking down at her for a long time. Then held out a hand and helped her to her feet.

"Come," he managed, finally, and hurried out of the tent without looking back.


	22. Into the Wilds

Duncan waited quietly outside. He didn't like feeling this way. He had always tried to keep his feelings separated from his duties. And this was why. Maggie joined him a short time later and they headed toward the courtyard where they could see a small crowd of people already waiting for them. Duncan approached with Maggie trailing slightly behind. She was wearing her robes and carrying her staff with her. Though she was tiny compared to the group of armored warriors around her, one of the men drew back, visibly shaken by the sight of a mage roaming free.

Before she could say anything, Alistair spoke. "What's the matter? Never seen a woman before?"

The smaller of the men laughed and Maggie looked at him with surprise and gratitude. The smaller of the two men moved to introduce himself to Maggie and Duncan took the chance to move closer to Alistair.

"Are you ready, Alistair?" he asked quietly.

"As ready as you can be in these situations, I guess."

Duncan nodded and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "You are ready for this."

Alistair nodded and Duncan stepped forward. The group quieted at once. 

"If you're all ready, we shall begin the first stage of the Joining. You will take the South Gate into the Korcari Wilds to slay your first darkspawn and take its blood into a vial to be brought back with you. You must do this before sunrise. Do you understand?"

They all nodded and Duncan turned to Alistair.

"Mind your charges, Alistair," he said gravely.

"Right. Well, let's go then, shall we?" Alistair said, turning to lead the group into the Wilds.

The night was thick as the group headed out into the Wilds. Maggie lit her staff, taking the lead with instructions from Alistair. They were to follow the path that would guide them to the southern garrison, where they hoped the treaties would still be stored. A chill wind whispered through the trees, blowing ripples through the long grass all around them and catching Maggie's robes as it rushed past. She wondered how they were supposed to know darkspawn were coming in the dark of night when she was barely able to keep them from walking into a swamp, much less a band of dangerous monsters. Ser Jory voiced her opinion before she could, however, bringing the group to a halt.

"I'm no coward," he began, "but this just seems foolish. I have a wife and child at home..."

"Don't worry," Alistair assured him. "Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn, even if we can't see them."

Daveth laughed. “You see, ser knight? We might die, but we'll be warned about it first.”

"Well, we'll just have to watch each others' backs," Maggie said.

"Oh, I'll watch your back, all right," Daveth grinned, looking her over.

"Boy, you're a charmer aren't you?" she replied and he laughed again.

"Yeah, that's me, alright. I'd charm you right out of your pants if you were wearing any."

"That's another thing," Ser Jory broke in, also looking at Maggie, but with an entirely different expression on his face. "No one said anything about mages."

"Well, no need to worry about that either," Alistair replied, looking at Ser Jory in growing distaste. "I was raised in the Chantry, so I have Templar training."

"Well, at least we have a mage hunter with us to keep it under control."

Maggie turned to him, prepared to be insulted, but the expression on his face shook her. She had the feeling that if he ever caught her alone, he'd teach her a lesson for being a mage, being a woman, being born.

 _It,_ he had called her. To her surprise and gratitude, Alistair and Daveth both seemed to take as much offense to it as she did. Daveth stepped forward, shoving Jory back a few steps and Alistair immediately separated them both as Jory made to retaliate.

A moment later, everyone came to a halt as a burst of flame went flying past them. They looked over at Maggie, and then Alistair looked behind Jory to see a wolf lying just feet from him, flames rising from its still twitching corpse. Without a word, Maggie turned around and continued down the path, leaving the men to catch up to her. Alistair was the first to do so, coming up to walk beside her.

"I'm sorry--" he began awkwardly, but Maggie cut him off.

"Don't bother," she snapped, speeding up her pace. She knew it wasn't fair. She wasn't even sure why she was angry with him. Alistair had done nothing except come to her aid, after all. But at the moment, she didn't care. She was hurt and angry. And embarrassed. Meeting someone like Ser Jory made her wonder how many of the others at the camp had thought of her that way.

 _Like those Ash Warriors_ , she remembered, their attitudes starting to make more sense. In her anger, Maggie had advanced quite a bit ahead of the others, which she realized only when she heard a cry from behind her.

"Darkspawn!" Alistair shouted, drawing his sword. "Two...no, three of them!"

"How do you know?" came Daveth's voice.

"Now's not the time for questions, Daveth," Alistair responded dryly.

"Maggie! Where are you?" he called.

At his first shout, Maggie had extinguished the light on her staff, knowing that it would draw the creatures straight to her. Now that it was out, however, she found that she could no longer see anything in the darkness. Slowly moving in the direction Alistair's voice had last come from, she made her way to them blindly. Waiting for her eyes to grow used to the lack of light, she made out a movement ahead. A dark shape stalking toward her. Was it one of her companions? Or was it one of those monsters she had yet to face?

The shadow stopped, whipping its head around in her direction and sniffing the air. Maggie realized at once that this was no man, and she froze, thinking that any movement she made would give away her position. Slowly, the creature turned to face her, its glowing red eyes seeing all too well in the darkness. It came rushing toward her with no warning, springing forth to rip her apart.

Maggie screamed and threw her arms up to shield herself, unable to see what came next.


	23. Morrigan

There was a loud thud and a scream rent the air. Maggie opened her eyes and saw Alistair standing in front of her, shield out and sword drawn, blood dripping from its tip onto the ground at his feet.

"Prepare yourself!" he yelled at her, jarring her into action. She got up and lit her staff. Now that she knew the creatures could see in the dark, she realized they would likely be sensitive to light. Plus, they could then regain the advantage of sight, giving them an edge over their foes.

Another of the monsters came hurtling at her out of the darkness. As it entered the ring of light, she shoved the fireball spell she had been building out through her staff and straight into its face. The creature squealed and dropped to the ground, frantically trying to extinguish the residual flames from her spell.

An arrow whizzed by her then, so close to her head that it grazed her cheek as it went by, thudding into Alistair's shield, which had appeared in front of her once more.

"Daveth!" Alistair yelled, pointing his sword in the direction the missile had come from. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to see his target, Maggie drew energies from herself and the world around her, building up a powerful electric charge and releasing it in the direction Alistair was pointing. The sizzling ball flew into the air where it erupted, dividing into several smaller arcs of lightning that struck down out of the sky, forming a cage around the final darkspawn.

"Now!" Alistair shouted, and Daveth released a well-aimed shot right into its heart before Ser Jory appeared behind it and took its head off in one swipe of his greatsword. The beast thudded heavily to the ground at his feet, blood still spurting from the wound.

Maggie's spell died away, leaving behind only the soft glow of her staff for light once more. Daveth and Ser Jory used it to find them after gathering blood from the fallen. Alistair looked at Maggie, who had not moved to do the same. She was staring at the blood dripping from Alistair's sword, thinking about the blood that had been taken from her as a small child and stored in a phylactery to be used if anyone ever needed to hunt her down. Then she thought about the blood gushing from Jowan's wound as he fed his energies to demons in exchange for their power. Whatever they were to do in this ritual, and whatever the result of it was, she had the feeling that it came at a great cost.

Maggie felt the vial being tugged from her grasp and released it. She watched as Alistair stooped down and filled it for her, wiping it clean and then tucking it into his own pack.

"Well done," Alistair said, standing back up and addressing the group. "Now we just need to find our way back to camp."

"Come," he said softly to Maggie, taking her hand and tugging her gently along as they made their way across to the east garrison. They ran into no more darkspawn and the creatures that might once have attacked shrank away after witnessing the threat this group posed. There was easier prey to be had.

They arrived at the desolate building. The walls were completely gone in most cases. The roof littered the floor. They could see the bridge that led the way across and back out of the Wilds running through it.

"We should report back to Duncan," he said. "After all, we have what we really need, but it would have been beneficial to all involved to have those treaties on hand when we call upon other nations to aid us in the face of the Blight."

"Why do you trespass here?" came a clear, feminine voice.

They all jumped and looked around, trying to find the source. The voice laughed, and it echoed all around them, as though it was coming from everywhere all at once. Suddenly, it stopped, and a moment later a woman stepped forth into a long beam of light cast across the center of what used to be a room, but was now simply an overgrown ruin.

The stranger was tall and voluptuous, as was readily seen through the thin strips of fabric she wore over her breasts and the torn and belted skirt that sat low on her hips. Maggie suddenly felt very inadequate with her petite frame when she compared herself to this woman.

"I ask you again," she said. "Why you have trespassed here?"

"We're not trespassing," Alistair said, stepping forth. "This tower once belonged to the Wardens."

"Yes, it _once_ belonged to the Wardens," the woman agreed, "but no longer."

She looked them all over and then addressed herself to Maggie.

"You there. Girl. What may I call you?"

Maggie flushed at the way she had been addressed, particularly in light of her current feelings, but she told the woman her name.

"Maggie."

"Well, Maggie. You may call me Morrigan."

"Nice to meet you."

Morrigan stared at Maggie as though she had never seen anything like her before, and then she laughed again.

"I do like you," she said. "Come, you are turned around. Your camp is back the other direction. I will take you there."

"You know the way?" Alistair asked her skeptically.

"Indeed, I do. My mother and I live out here, you see."

Alistair sniggered loudly, trying but failing, to turn it into a cough.

"Yes?" Morrigan asked him coldly.

"Well, it's just funny. To think of someone like--well, like you--having a mother."

"And why shouldn't I have a mother? Doesn't everyone? I am no different."

"Right," he said quickly. "Sorry."

Morrigan scowled. She turned abruptly and walked out of the moonlight, leading them back to their camp and their destinies.


	24. The Joining

They arrived back at the southern gate in what felt like no time. They entered, heading gratefully for the fire, and saw Duncan standing there with his head bowed. He looked up quickly at their approach, visibly relieved at their return.

Alistair relayed the details of their meeting with Morrigan and then the recruits handed around their vials. Duncan excused them, then turned to Alistair, who took Maggie's from his pack and gave it to him. Duncan took it and looked at him in concern.

"Can I ask--" Alistair began, but Duncan cut him off.

"No," he said quickly. 

"But--"

"There is nothing to tell, Alistair," he said, looking him in the eye. Alistair nodded.

"Bring her to the chapel with the others," Duncan said and left.

Once they had joined him there, Duncan led the small group through the night to the stone altar, the last remnant of the magnificent chapel that had once occupied this section of the keep. The ritual was something they kept secret even among the Wardens, only the top tier of whom knew the exact steps. For it was a working of blood magic. The darkspawn blood was mixed with Lyrium and a drop of blood from an Archdemon in order to connect them to the Blight. Very few people had even a slight chance of surviving the Joining, which is why the Wardens chose their recruits with such care, even when they were in dire need. It took more than physical strength or even the want to do right. It required a strength of mind, body, and soul that few possessed.

Duncan looked at Maggie. She would make it. He knew she would. He had known it ever since he had first met her. Even during her ordeal with Jowan, she had been able to fight him, to awaken from his control. And when it had been over, she had picked up the pieces and moved on, struggling silently to put them back together the best she could.

Alistair arrived at the base of the altar and looked to Duncan.

"So, at last, we come to the Joining," Duncan said, looking around at them all. "The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight. When humanity stood at the brink of annihilation, so it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood--and mastered their taint."

"We're going to drink the blood of those creatures?!" Ser Jory cried out in disgust.

Duncan looked at him. "As the first Grey Wardens did before us. As we did before you. This is the source of our power--and our victory."

"After the Joining, Grey Wardens are connected to the Blight and are immune to it from that time on. We can use it to sense the darkspawn and kill the Archdemon," Alistair said.

"We say only a few words prior to the Joining and these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you will."

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."

A shiver went around the group and something stirred in the darkness. Maggie could feel the magical energies of the ritual formulating around them. Whatever was to come, there was no turning back now.

"Step forward, Daveth," Duncan ordered. Daveth did so, taking the goblet offered him and drinking its contents. For a minute, it seemed as though nothing had happened, then suddenly he clutched his head and began screaming, sinking down onto his knees in his anguish. Maggie watched in horror as his eyes rolled up in the back of his head and he collapsed, dead on the ground.

"I am sorry, Daveth," Duncan said, sounding genuinely sad.

"You will be remembered," Alistair added.

"Ser Jory, step forth," Duncan said, turning back to the altar to refill the goblet.

Alistair was watching Duncan but Maggie was watching the other man. He was backing slowly away. She watched as he reached his hand toward the hilt of his sword and lunging toward Duncan's turned back.

"Duncan!" Maggie cried out in alarm.

Duncan turned just in time to duck Jory's wild swing, unsheathing his own dagger and driving it deep into the man's chest. Jory bucked and dropped his sword. Duncan pushed Jory back, wiping his dagger before putting it away. Maggie looked down at Ser Jory. His eyes were wide in shock and fear, his skin becoming paler as his blood seeped into the stones beneath him.

"I am sorry," Duncan said, not sounding sorry at all.

Alistair said nothing.

"Maggie, step forth. Your new life awaits."

Maggie looked at the two men lying dead on the ground at her feet and then back up at Duncan.

"Trust me," he said. Behind him, Alistair nodded.

Maggie stepped forward and took the goblet from Duncan's hands. She brought it to her lips, looked at them both one last time, and drank.


	25. Battle Plans

Maggie was standing on the top of what seemed to be an underground mountain range. There were peaks and valleys covering the vast chamber. The rocks jutting up from the ground were black and menacing. She looked down into the great valley below her at the multitude of bodies that filled it. Wherever there was space, there were darkspawn crammed into it. They fought each other and bit themselves in their mindless fury until suddenly a terrible cry rang out, echoing endlessly through the cavern. The creatures below howled and cringed until the sound died away. Maggie looked around for the source of the noise, and as she turned to look behind her a great head reared out of the darkness before her, beastly eyes glowing in fury. The great, black dragon opened its mouth to screech its knowledge of her presence when her awareness was suddenly yanked back out of the darkness of the underground caves to the relative light of the twilit sky above her.

A moment later, Duncan's face swam into view with Alistair's following close behind.

"Welcome," Duncan said, sounding relieved, as he pulled her gently to her feet.

"How do you feel?" he asked her, supporting her with one arm around her waist.

"I'm--okay...I don't know," she said, still trying to regain her bearings.

"Come. It is done," Duncan said, taking her hand and lightly pulling her away from the chapel and back into the courtyard. She allowed him to do so, drawing close to him and he wrapped his arm protectively around her.

She felt strange. Like she was still herself, but different somehow. Like something more than blood had been taken into her body. There was a taint there that allowed her to see the true horrors that lay before them all. The endless number of darkspawn filling that cavern--with the Archdemon at its head, just as Duncan had said. She understood now how condemning a few to save them all was more than just an honorable belief for the Wardens. It was a terrible duty that they could not foreswear, as Alistair had said.

Duncan led her to the tent where she would be staying. It had been set up and her things moved for her during the ritual. Duncan saw her back to her blankets where she immediately drifted back off into a troubled sleep.

She awoke again late the next morning. She got up and dressed, then stepped from the tent to go in search of food. When she stepped outside, however, she found Alistair sitting quietly by the cold fire pit, alread with food and drink at his side. He looked up as she exited the tent and smiled at her.

"Hi," he said. "Duncan was called to a war council, so thought I'd bring you some food."

"Thank you," she said, touched. She sat down next to him and grabbed the water.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better," Maggie said truthfully as she took the offered bread gratefully. She was famished. Alistair sat quietly, watching her eat. After a while, he seemed to realize he was staring at her and looked away.

Maggie smiled at him. "I'm glad you're here. I wanted to thank you for last night. I mean, you know--"

She trailed off, thinking about the Joining. Daveth and Ser Jory lying dead on the ground.

"Don't worry about it," Alistair said. "I'm glad you're okay. There aren't many who survive the Joining. Did you have bad dreams?"

Maggie shook a little despite herself as she recalled the vast hordes of darkspawn, the archdemon, and the overwhelming whisper of the hive mind invading her thoughts. The closer the vicinity of another darkspawn, the stronger the connection, which is how they were able to sense when darkspawn were near. There was a caveat, however. The darkspawn could sense them, too.

"Yes," she said. "Is it always like that?"

"Not always. You get used to it after a while, but it never goes away entirely."

As they were talking, an elven courier approached, keeping a respectful distance. Giving them a slight bow, he requested their presence before the king. Looking at each other in surprise, they rose and went with him. When they arrived at the war council, they found three men standing together, deep in discussion. One of the men was Duncan, but the others Maggie didn't know. When she asked him, Alistair named them as King Cailan and Loghain, the King's advisor and old friend to King Maric.

They waited until Duncan motioned them forward, then approached cautiously. He addressed them quietly, looking troubled.

"The scouts have returned with disturbing news. There is a vast horde moving this way with great speed. They report that the darkspawn will be here by sundown. We must prepare at once. The two of you will make your way north to the Tower of Ishal. When the mages on the field give the command, you must light the signal fire so that Loghain's men know when to attack. Do you understand?"

"Wait!" Alistair nearly shouted. "I won't be fighting in the battle?"

Duncan just looked at him, like a stern father silently admonishing a child and Alistair bowed his head.

"Yes, Duncan. I understand."

Maggie didn't say anything but nodded to show she had heard.

 _Already?_ she thought to herself as they left to prepare. Everything seemed to be moving so fast; they had only just arrived at Ostagar and the battle was already upon them. She remembered the dreams left over from the Joining that she had just passed mere hours ago and wondered if the sensation would be recreated in her waking mind with such a multitude of darkspawn on their doorstep.

When the King and his men had left, Duncan came back to the tent to join them.

"I must help with the preparations. There is much to do before nightfall. Maggie, you should go to the armorer and the weaponsmith before the battle. Alistair will take you."

Recognizing the dismissal, Maggie ducked inside the tent to retrieve her belongings. She threw Duncan's cloak over her shoulders, grabbed Cullen's bag, and together she and Alistair went off in search of the armory.


	26. The Battle of Ostagar

Several hours later found Alistair and Maggie standing by the fire, silently waiting for Duncan's return. It was growing late now. Doubtless, with the Archdemon leading them, this was the darkspawn's strategy. Attack under cover of night when they had the advantage of clear sight.

Maggie wore new robes of a deep midnight blue lined with fine silver threadings. She wore Duncan's cloak on top. She hadn't been able to find a new staff, but the Enchanter at the mages' compound had improved her own.

Alistair stood close by, now wearing his chainmail armor. His sword was sheathed on his hip and a shield was strapped to his back. The fire cast a glow on his face so that Maggie was able to study his profile. He had striking features, strong and graceful. And though he was cocky and self-assured, he was also kind and possessed of a boyish nature that she found appealing.

At last, after what seemed like an eternity, Duncan returned. He approached them, battle-ready.

"Well, it is time. Are you ready?" he asked.

They both nodded, unable to speak.

"Good. Maggie, I wish to speak with Alistair for a moment. Can you wait for me inside the tent?"

Maggie nodded and left. Duncan waited until she was gone before turning back to Alistair.

"Alistair, I know you wish to fight at my side, but you are the only one I can trust. Remember what I told you. And no matter what happens to me, you  _must_  protect her. Do you understand? I am leaving her in your care."

Seeing that he wished to argue, Duncan continued, "You wish to be my right hand, yes?"

Alistair nodded.

"I have sworn to protect this girl. That she would have my arm as her shield. Besides, you and I both know how this must end, regardless of how the battle ends tonight. I have explained this. You must do me this one great favor, Alistair. Please."

"Of course, Duncan." 

"Good," Duncan said. "Wait here."

He ducked inside the tent after Maggie and gathered her into his arms. She stiffened for a moment in surprise, and then hugged him back, remembering his words at the gate. Perhaps he did have feelings for her after all. He pulled away and looked down her. A sad smile touched his features.

"Take care of Alistair for me," he said. She nodded, tears running down her face now. He suddenly let her go, then ducked back out of the tent. She rushed after him, but he was already rushing off into the night.

It hurt to leave Maggie with Alistair, knowing in his heart what that meant. But he was comforted by the idea that they would have each other once he was gone. He had been given his time. Now it was theirs.

He had soon reached the King on the front lines and joined him, settling their helms and drawing their swords together. Out in the night, they saw the body of the horde creating a massive shadow beneath the red lights burning on hundreds of torches. Duncan looked to the tower where Maggie and Alistair were headed, then back to the senior mages standing by.

"Wynne! Uldred! Are you ready?" he called.

"Ready!" they replied. They had the contact spell held prepared so that when Duncan gave the signal, they could immediately cast a rune that would appear at the foot of the beacon. In the meantime, Loghain's men were advancing to flanking positions, ready to attack at the signal.

The King indicated the release of the first volley of arrows as the growling of the horde grew into a rumble that they could feel vibrating through the ground beneath them. A rush of fiery arrows flew through the night, followed almost immediately by another. The hounds went next, springing into the front lines as the darkspawn came rushing toward them. They met in a bloody clash of nails and teeth, growling and clawing each other in a mad frenzy.

There were only five mages left on the battlefield with Wynne and Uldred being taken out. Two of those held barriers and outer defenses as best they could, slowing the onslaught of the enemy to give their soldiers an advantage. The rest cast as many area spells as they could, releasing them in timed intervals so that the previous caster could recharge their mana while the next was casting their spell.

But the darkspawn just seemed to keep coming. Their numbers were endless. For every one they brought down, two more seemed to spring into their place. Giant ogres came crashing in next, finally breaking through the barrier. At this, Duncan called for the signal to be released. Wynne concentrated the spell towards its location and Uldred cast it out into the night, then they immediately rejoined the other mages who began to retreat as the enemy moved closer and closer to their own front lines. He looked up to the top of the tower and saw the signal fire there, glowing bright into the night. They had done it then.

He and the others waited for Loghain's men to come to their aid, to strengthen their numbers and cut off the continuous flow of these creatures. But no help came. The King looked around in confusion. In his moment of distraction, an ogre took him off guard, grabbing him in one mighty claw. Duncan watched in horror as the great beast crushed King Cailan and then simply tossed him aside where he landed in a broken heap.

Duncan stood staring across the bloody battlefield and knew that they had been betrayed. They had all know Loghain mistrusted the Wardens and resented the King's insistence that they wait for help from Orlais. After everything Loghain and Meric had done to drive the cruel bastards from their lands, Loghain would never invite them back in. Even so, no one expected this. There was no way they could win under these crushing numbers when half of their own forces had just abandoned them. Duncan looked up at the burning tower, imagining Maggie there with Alistair. Then he took out both of his daggers and rushed for the ogre that had just downed the King.

Duncan stabbed the creature high in the chest, using one dagger to leverage the other up for a higher cut, plunging them in one after the other, climbing the creature until he was in reach of its monstrous head. With one final lunge, Duncan stabbed it in the throat, finally bringing it down.

He fell with it, rolling off, then rushed to the King's side. But King Cailan was already gone. Duncan felt a great rush around him as the horde swarmed over Ostagar and all else in its path. Then everything went black and he saw no more.


	27. Betrayal

Alistair stood at the base of the signal fire with Maggie alongside him. They had battled their way to the top of the tower through a whole host of darkspawn. They were battered and bloodied, but still, they fought. Together, they brought down their last enemy just as the rune at the base of the brazier began to glow. It was the signal to light the fire. Maggie aimed her staff and sent a fireball straight into it, lighting the great bonfire. The flames burst high into the night.

"What's happening?!" Maggie screamed, but Alistair was unable to see the battle below them. He could hear more monsters clawing their way through the final door that kept them at bay.

"I don't know!" Alistair yelled back.

He moved closer to the battlements, peering over the jutting stones to watch the figures clashing together on the field below. He could plainly make out the King's men and the Wardens, but not a single one of Loghain's soldiers were to be found. He waited, but no new men came to their aid.

A great crashing sound came from behind him and Alistair spun, readying himself to meet whatever came through. The first of the darkspawn broke through the door. Maggie sent a fireball at it. She was running low on mana now. Her stamina was completely spent and it was becoming difficult for her to cast spells. Alistair rushed forth and drove his sword into the monster, finishing it off. But more were coming.

They backed up to the battlements. Maggie aimed at the doorway. It would narrow the flow of the darkspawn, at least for a little while. Alistair stood in front of Maggie, his sword and shield at the ready. The odds were against them, but they would fight these foul creatures to their very last breath. He, defending Maggie from further harm as best he could. She, casting whatever spells her lingering energies were capable of.

Alistair peered over the edge again, but he saw nothing but the rolling waves of darkspawn rushing beneath them now. There was nowhere else to go now but down. But that was as certain a death as this one. At least here they could fight to the last, spending every last ounce of energy to bring as many of their foes down with them as they could. Here he could keep at least one of his promises to Duncan. To defend Maggie with his life.

A well-armed and armored Hurlock broke through the ranks of darkspawn and Alistair turned himself to face this newest danger. The massive darkspawn brought an ugly club swinging about. Spikes stuck out from it at odd angles. Alistair brought his shield around to block the incoming blow and in that moment, as though it had been waiting for it, a Genlock rogue fired. It's bow twanged as it sent a thick, black bolt straight into Maggie's chest. The arrow tore through her robes, the force of the blow driving her to the floor.

"No!" Alistair screamed, unable to believe what he was seeing. He watched in horror as blood began spreading into the robes surrounding the wound. He screamed, dropping his guard as he ran to her side. His own opponent came up behind him and brought its club down into Alistair's shield arm. Then it brought its fist in from the side and struck Alistair in the temple, dropping him to his knees. Maggie's eyes fluttered closed and he let his head drop onto hers.

Corruption rolled over them then, as it rolled over all of Ostagar. From the tide of the darkspawn that had been released upon Fereldan, to the blood of the men and women that soaked the battlefield, to the hearts of those who had chosen to let their comrades die.

What hope had they now with the King dead and the last of the Wardens gone? The darkness had fallen over all of Thedas, and there was no one left to stem the tide.


	28. In the Hut

Maggie rolled in and out of consciousness. She thought that perhaps she was dead, but then the pain rolled over her once more. When it passed, she realized she couldn't be dead if she could still feel pain.

The next time Maggie came to, she was able to take in more details. She was in a small room. Wooden walls and floors. An old woman, leaning over her, chanting strange words. A beautiful young woman standing calmly behind her, looking almost bored. A man with his head bowed. He had red hair. Like Cullen's hair. But it couldn't be Cullen. He was back at the tower. So where was she?

 _Where am I?_  The thought cried out to her and she opened her eyes.

The young woman was in the room with her again, but it was just the two of them this time. Maggie looked up at the bare ceiling. Nothing there indicated where she was.

"How are you feeling?" the woman said. "My name is Morrigan, lest you have forgotten. Here, sit up slowly and have some water before you try to speak."

Maggie did so, with some help, before managing weakly, "What happened?"

"Your King is dead, as are all of your comrades save one. Your King's man, Loghain, quit the field instead of coming to your aid and the might of the horde overwhelmed the rest easily."

Maggie sat in shock, feeling numb with disbelief. Everyone was dead? But, how could this happen?

And then she thought, 'Save one'.

"Who?" she exclaimed, sitting bolt upright and causing Morrigan to look at her with alarm.

"Who, what?"

"All of my comrades 'save one.'"

"Ah. A young man named Alistair. He was not greatly harmed. You, however, have been on death's door for some time now, but it seems you shall live. Your friend will be relieved. He was quite convinced you were dead."

Maggie stared at this woman who said such terrible things with such coldness. So that meant--

Maggie made to stand up and nearly fell over.

"Wait! What are you doing? You shouldn't be up yet."

Maggie said nothing, just continued struggling toward the door. She had to see for herself.

Morrigan stared at her for a moment and then moved to help her. Maggie felt a rush of gratitude as she allowed herself to be braced on one side. Morrigan helped her carefully outside. The night was deep and the stars were shining brightly in the heavens. But there was no peaceful lake to mirror them this time. Just a battlefield, soaked in blood.

Alistair looked up when they appeared. He cried out when he saw Morrigan half carrying Maggie from the cabin, still looking pale and shaken."You're alive! I thought surely you were dead!"

"Duncan?" Maggie whispered.

Alistair did not answer her but he didn't need to. She could see the truth in his face. She went to him, burying her face in his chest as she cried. He held her for a minute, then he picked her up and carried her back into the cabin.


	29. Flemeth

A few days later, Maggie and Alistair were sitting next to the fire with Flemeth. Though the old woman wrapped herself in thick shawls and sat hunched over the fire most of the day, she had a strength about her that seemed to belie her appearance. Her hair was a deep, silvery gray and it was long and thick where it curled about her shoulders. Her features were sharp and her voice was strong.

Her daughter shared her beauty and her intensity. But, unlike her mother, she said little. She seemed to have no interest in other people, even treating her mother with contemptuous disdain. 

"So," Alistair said to Flemeth. "I suppose we should thank you."

"You suppose? How very gracious of you."

"No. We do thank you," Maggie said earnestly. "You saved our lives. But, how? I still can't remember."

"Why, I turned into a giant bird and plucked you up!"

The old woman laughed while Maggie and Alistair looked at each other, confused. But before she could ask for further explanation, Flemeth sobered. 

"You are welcome. Anyway, I had little choice. Without your sacrifice, there can be no end to the Blight. Only Wardens can slay the Archdemon. So, the question is, what will you do now?"

Maggie looked at Alistair, who shrugged.

"There aren't any Wardens left in Ferelden now. Well, except for us, I suppose. There are others in parts of Orlais, but Duncan said they were scattered and he had been unable to contact them."

"Where's headquarters?" Maggie asked him.

"Weisshaupt Fortress. Somewhere in the Anderfels. Too far to do any good."

"Is there nowhere else we can go?"

"Well, we could go to Redcliffe, I suppose."

"What's in Redcliffe?"

"Arl Eamon. He is--was--King Cailan's uncle. We could go to him about Loghain. Demand he call a Landsmeet."

"And the darkspawn?" she asked.

"Duncan mentioned that Eamon was preparing to send more troops to aid in the coming battles should we need them, but the King had said Loghain was all he needed."

Maggie noticed the bitterness in Alistair's voice, as did Flemeth. Alistair stood up and turned his back on them.

"So, we'll go to Redcliffe, then?" Maggie asked him softly.

She remembered what Duncan had said about knowing Alistair's father and wondered if it could be the Arl. Perhaps he and Cailan were cousins.

Alistair nodded his agreement and Flemeth her approval, adding "And you will take Morrigan with you."

There was a stunned silence. "What do you mean by this, Mother?"

Flemeth laughed. "What's the matter, girl? You're always saying you wish to go out and see the world. Well, now is your chance. This task is too important to fail. They will need your skills and your guidance."

Turning to Maggie and Alistair, she addressed them.

"I send with you that which is most precious to me. You must not fail."

Morrigan turned to Maggie, who nodded her acceptance. Alistair had been looking at Maggie as well. Seeing her reaction, he seemed to resign himself to it, too.

"Well, I hope you can cook," he said.

"I can cook," Morrigan responded coldly. "Why?"

"You don't have to cook," Maggie broke in, giving Alistair an exasperated look.

"Your loss," Alistair said. "It's burnt-something from here on out then. Unless you can cook any better than I can."

Maggie grinned at him and shook her head, then looked back at Morrigan.

"So, you can cook, huh?"

Morrigan sighed deeply and gave her mother a dirty look. She returned to the hut, coming back a few minutes later with a pack and a staff, prepared to lead them out of the Wilds.


	30. On the Road Again

The little group followed Morrigan from the hut. She led them directly into the Korcari Wilds and they had soon lost all sense of direction. The grounds were dark even during the day. As they ventured deeper into the trees, even the small light coming from the weak sun overhead began to be blocked. Maggie doubted they would have found their way back out on their own.

"Why can't I sense the darkspawn?" Maggie asked Alistair. They were walking together behind Morrigan.

"Well, it usually takes time. And the closer you are to the darkspawn, the more strongly you'll feel it."

"Is it the same for everyone?"

"I don't think so. I asked Duncan about it once. He said it can vary depending on the person and the amount of time they’ve carried the taint within them.”

"Can you tell the difference between the darkspawn?"

"Yes. After a while, you’ll be able to do things like pick out the Genlocks from the Hurlocks. Duncan was particularly good at it. He used it to create his battle tactics. And he was utterly ruthless on the battlefield, of course."

For a moment, Alistair's face lit up and he smiled like a little kid. And then his face fell again and he said no more. Maggie glanced at Alistair. He had continued walking but was just staring at the ground now. She knew a bit about what he was feeling. He was mourning his friend and mentor every bit as much as she was. 

"How well did you know Duncan?" she asked him cautiously. Alistair smiled sadly.

"Not long, I guess. Around six months or so. But it felt like I had known him much longer. He found me in a chantry, where I had been raised since I was 10. I didn't want to be there and was terribly bitter about it, thinking I would never find an escape. But then Duncan came. He was the first person that ever asked me what  _I_  wanted. And he listened. When I told him that I didn't want to be there, he asked the Revered Mother to let me join the Wardens. Well, she said no, of course."

"She did? Why?"

Alistair looked away from her.

"I don't know, really. Maybe she just didn't want to lose anyone to the Wardens. Well, Duncan invoked the Right of Conscription and took me anyway. She wasn't pleased. But for the first time in my life, I felt free. I never felt like the people who had raised were my real family. They sent me away as soon as they could, just to be rid of me. And then I was stuck there, in that stupid room, in that stupid tower. So quiet. I  _hated_  it."

Maggie stared at him. She had never thought about it that way before. It sounded exactly as her life had been before she had met Duncan. Trapped in the tower with no thought of escaping, no chance at a normal life. Their destinies had been decided for them and any chance at a future had been stripped away. Until Duncan had come.

"He told me about you once, you know."

"Really? What did he say?"

"That you reminded him of your father."

Alistair looked uncomfortable at this.

"Did you know your family at all?" she asked him tentatively. It seemed a topic neither he nor Duncan liked to go into.

"Well, I know who people  _say_  my father was...” he trailed off. 

Maggie waited for him to go on, but he didn't.

"What in the blazes are you two doing back there?" came Morrigan's voice from ahead of them.

They both jumped, like guilty children.

"Sorry, Morrigan," Alistair replied at once and hurried off, leaving Maggie to her thoughts.


	31. Mourning

It was later that night and they were walking single file along the empty stretch of road leading to Lothering. Alistair walked behind Maggie, watching and thinking. He was grateful to her for bringing up Duncan and for telling him what Duncan had said. But it made him nervous.

 _You must protect her. I am leaving her in your care._ The words--and the promise behind them-stood out in his mind.

They decided to make camp when they ran across a patch of unbroken ground. Alistair stood watch while the women slept. He had been distant with Maggie after their conversation. He didn't want her to know. Not yet. Was that so wrong? He just wanted her to get to know him as Alistair first.

 _She probably knows how I feel_ , he thought suddenly. Of the few people in the world who would, he was sure she was one of them. He recalled how some of the other Templars and Initiates had simply called their charges 'Mage!' Just as they had called him a bastard. 

Night had come in full when Alistair heard a sound behind him. He whipped around, sword at the ready, but let it drop when he saw Maggie approaching him. He smiled at her in welcome, and she smiled back, sitting down next to him.

"Do you want to get some rest?" she asked him. "I've had enough sleep."

"No, that's okay. I could use some company, though," he replied looking over at her. "I've been meaning to talk to you, actually."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I've just been thinking. About Duncan and the Wardens. There are a lot of things they should have told you after your Joining, but with the battle and everything..."

"Duncan didn't tell me much."

"Did he tell you about the Calling?"

"No. What's that?"

Alistair looked at her, wondering how much he should tell her.

"Well, once the Joining is complete, the taint stays with us. Wardens usually only have about 30 or so years before they begin to hear the song of the Blight, which we call the Calling, telling them the taint is about to take them. Then they go to the Deep Roads, where they can die in battle like their brothers and sisters, fighting to the end."

"I--see."

After a long pause, Alistair continued hesitantly, "Did Duncan tell you he had begun to hear the Calling?"

"What?! What do you mean?"

Alistair looked at her. He didn't wish to bring her pain, but he thought that knowing might help her come to terms with his death. After all, as Duncan had told him moments before the battle, death was coming for him one way or another.

"Well, he told me before he left for the Circle that he had begun hearing it and that he was glad that at least he had many battles before him where could die fighting the Blight for true. And he did, you know?"

Maggie nodded her understanding and her thanks. She had wondered at his words. _Th_ _ere are other things. The time for my sacrifice may be now._ This, then, must have been what he had meant. She leaned against Alistair and rested her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her, resting his head on hers. They sat like that for a long time, weeping softly in memory of their lost friend.


	32. Lothering

The trio made their way to Lothering in just two days thanks to Morrigan. They stuck to the wilds, sleeping in clearings along the way. Morrigan and Maggie cast protection spells around them to hide their presence from the horde.

When they finally arrived at Lothering, however, it was only to find that they were already too late. The horde had moved straight north from Ostagar following the battle. If you could call it that. Slaughter was more accurate. The darkspawn had no need to plan, to think, to stop and heal companions. They simply tore through the wilderness each night, poisoning the land and leaving a trail of corruption behind them.

They did what they could for Lothering, searching for survivors and lighting fires to cleanse the ground and stop the spreading of disease. Morrigan muttered behind them the whole time.

"This is a waste of time and energy. You should be focusing on those you can still save."

And the sad thing was, she was right. The town was beyond saving. What few people they were able to find lay huddled together in sickly masses, unable to do much more than crawl across the spoiled grounds. 

As he tried to prepare himself to do what must be done, Alistair thought back to when he had first joined the order. When they told the stories of the plague the Darkspawn left in their wake. He had been horrified to hear the men speak so casually of burning an entire town just so the darkspawn wouldn’t get to it and spread their disease to even more unsuspecting souls.

 _What if there had been even a single survivor?_ He had thought then. _How could they live with themselves with that knowledge?_

He had thought he couldn’t do it. He had thought himself a better man. How arrogant he had been. Looking around now at this poor town, it was laughable to even hope there was one who would go unharmed. They couldn't simply leave these people to their slow death. Or, worse, to spread the disease to others. They were sworn to fight the and destroy the Blight, no matter the cost. He thought he could never make such a choice, but the choice was clear.

He could have left duty to Morrigan. She would have done it alone. She had been bred to deal with hard truths such as these. But he knew that he would feel the guilt no matter his action. In fact, taking the easy way out would only make it that much worse, for he would only be trying to protect himself. And how selfish that was in the face of what was to become of these people. So he and Maggie did what must be done. And in the end, they stood together, hand in hand, as Maggie sent the final firey blast that burned the place to the ground. 

They left at once following this sorrowful duty, traveling straight north to Redcliffe. They followed much the same path that Maggie and Duncan had followed on their way down from Kinloch Hold. Before long, they could see it again in the distance, looming gray and sorrowful over the green countryside. And now he had something new to worry about.

Maggie had been extremely quiet since leaving Lothering. He realized that they must be following the same route North that she and Duncan had taken South just a few short weeks before. Is this what she had left her life for? Left her friends for? She had probably thought she would never see it again, and now it was all they  _could_  see. It struck through the greens and blues of the surrounding land and sky like a horrible, gaping wound. Their eyes seemed constantly drawn by it.

They talked little and when they did, they spoke mostly of the Grey Wardens. Is this what the Grey Wardens were really all about? Yes, he thought it was. At that moment, he felt closer to Duncan than ever before. He wondered what Duncan would have done in his place and knew that he would have done the same. That thought helped him deal with it. A little.


	33. Family History

As they approached Redcliffe, Maggie became more and more withdrawn from the group. She had only left the Circle Tower a few weeks before and she did not like being near it again so soon. Alistair seemed lost in his own thoughts as well and Morrigan never spoke to anyone more than she could help it. The night before they arrived at Redcliffe, however, Alistair sought Maggie out. Morrigan was off gathering water and herbs and it was just the two of them sitting at the camp. He approached the fire cautiously and sat down next to Maggie. She stirred, giving him a small smile.

"Maggie?" he asked quietly.

"Hmm?"

"Do you have a minute?"

"Sure."

"It's just--I wanted to talk to you about something. Something important. I probably should have told you before now, I guess, but..." he trailed off.

Maggie was looking at him curiously now. "What is it?"

He cleared his throat. This was harder than he thought it would be. At least Morrigan wasn't around. At this thought, he panicked a little, glancing around the woods to make sure she hadn't returned while they weren't looking. She hadn't.

"Do you remember when you asked if I knew who my parents were?"

He asked this quickly, before he lost his nerve again. But already she was frowning at him.

"Yes."

"Well, the thing is..."

He stopped and cleared his throat. Then he tried again. "The thing is, my father was--King Maric."

Maggie stared at him, eyes wide. "What?! But why didn't you tell me before now?"

Alistair flinched at the reproachful look she was giving him and he rushed on to explain.

"Wait, listen! I didn't tell you because--I just--I wanted you to get to know me as Alistair first. Everywhere I've ever gone, they've known me as the bastard son of King Maric. An embarrassment to my brother and a threat to his throne. But I never wanted it! Not any of it! Please, you have to believe me!"

And he looked so dejected that Maggie felt her heart move for him. "You still should have told me Alistair. Do you realize how dangerous this is? Loghain already killed King Cailan. Are you trying to tell me you don't think he'll come for you too?"

Alistair looked stricken. "I hadn't thought of that."

"He already tried once. If he finds out we survived..." she let the thought trail off. The images it brought to her mind were too terrible to voice out loud.

Finally, she shook her head and sighed. "Is there anything else I should know about you?"

"No!"

She raised an eyebrow at him and he laughed. "No, really, I swear. This is it."

"Well, we have to tell Morrigan. This may change things. If your Uncle calls a Landsmeet to confront Cailan, they'll probably want to put you on the throne."

"But I don't want to be King!"

"Alistair," Maggie said sharply and Alistair stopped at once.

"None of us can choose who we are," she continued. "We are who we were born to be. You can spend your whole life fighting it, but you will never be able to run from yourself."

Alistair hung his head, thinking. Then he nodded.

"You're right," he said. "Well, where's Morrigan? We should be going soon."

"I am here," came Morrigan's voice from the line of trees behind them. 

"Oh, good. We're packing up. Time to get going," Alistair said, standing up and moving to belt his sword to his hip.

"As you command, my Prince," Morrigan responded with a glittering smile.

Alistair groaned but Maggie laughed. He scowled at her. 

"You're going to make me regret this, aren't you?"


	34. Redcliffe

They arrived at Redcliffe the next day. The town was eerily quiet. No people roamed the streets. Doors and windows that could be seen from the street were dark and boarded up. Maggie frowned. What on earth had happened here?

It wasn't until they got to the Chantry that they noticed the first sign of life. Flickering lights, just visible through the windows. Candles. Shadows. There were people moving around inside. Maggie and Alistair moved to enter the Chantry, but Morrigan hung back.

"What's wrong?" Maggie asked, stopping too.

Morrigan gave her a withering look.

"Unlike  _some_ of us, I am an apostate," she responded with such a look of contempt that Maggie felt as though she had been slapped. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" she responded hotly, but Morrigan simply turned away in supreme unconcern.

Maggie stomped up to the Chantry, followed closely by Alistair. Things were not going well so far. When they reached the top of the steps leading up to the great, stone building, Maggie stopped. She had turned white.

"What is it?" Alistair asked with some concern.

"Nothing," Maggie replied quickly. She bit her lip and glanced sideways at him. "It's just, I've never been in a Chantry before. I spent my whole life in the Tower surrounded by their watchdogs. This isn't something I'm exactly comfortable with."

She saw how her words had affected Alistair and reached out a comforting hand.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean you. You aren't like them. You didn't even want to be there."

"Do you mean that?" he asked her hopefully.

"Of course I do!" she cried. "You didn't choose that life any more than I did."

Alistair smiled down at her, gratefully. "Thank you."

She blushed, then nodded and looked quickly away. Alistair moved in front of her and knocked. Silence rang out in response. What little noise there had been stopped. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Alistair knocked again.

"Arl Eamon?" he called into the silence. "Bann Teagan? Is anyone there? It's Alistair!"

The door was thrown suddenly open and a familiar face stared out at them. His hair was brown instead of red. He was older and shorter than Alistair, but his boyish face was just as open and friendly. The two men could have been brothers.

"Alistair!" he cried in greeting. "You young pup! What are you doing here?"

"And you've brought someone with you," he added, casting an admiring glance at Maggie, who blushed. "And who is this?"

Alistair's face fell a little and he took a protective step toward Maggie. "This is Maggie. We're traveling together."

"Nice to meet you, Maggie," Teagan said, grabbed the pair of them and pulled them inside. He shut the great, wooden doors soundly behind them. 

"It's good to see you," Alistair said, blinking around at the dozens of faces now peering interestedly at them. "What's going on?"

Teagan's voice dropped to barely more than a whisper.

"You aren't safe here."

Alistair frowned. "What do you mean? I need to speak with my Uncle right away. It's urgent."

"Hush! Come with me," Teagan muttered. He resumed his previous unconcerned manner, throwing one arm over Alistair's shoulders, pinning him to his side. Alistair reached out and grasped Maggie's hand, dragging her with him. Teagan led them to an empty room off the main hall. The moment the door was closed, Teagan turned a concerned look upon Alistair.

"What are you doing here, Alistair?" he hissed. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to be here right now?" 

"What do you mean?"

Teagan looked back and forth between Maggie and Alistair, then he ran his hands through his hair.

"You better sit down for this one."


	35. Traitors

"Traitors?!" Alistair cried, jumping up from his chair. The tiny room stone room seemed to shrink in his anger.

"Shhh!" Teagan flapped his hands to quiet him down. "Do you want someone to hear you?"

"I can't believe this," Alistair growled. He began pacing the room, grinding one fist into the palm of his other hand. "But this is impossible! Loghain's the traitor, not the Grey Wardens! Isn't it obvious? All of Loghain's men survived and left the rest of us for dead!"

"I know," Teagan said, obviously trying to placate him. "I understand, Alistair. But you won't do anyone any good if you're caught now. There's a bounty on your head. On both your heads."

Alistair threw a startled glance back at Teagan and then to Maggie.

"We need to see my Uncle right away," he said. "This cannot happen. This will not stand."

"I agree with you Alistair. But the thing is, no one has been able to get into the castle in days. Not even me. Any time anyone tries, they're rushed by undead."

"Undead? You aren't serious?"

"Yes, I am. They don't dare come down to the village but they'll attack anyone who approaches the castle. I'm afraid for my brother and his family. King Cailan's dead. Most of the Wardens are dead. And until about five minutes ago, everyone thought you were dead, too. The only person that leaves in Loghain's way is Eamon and Connor.  The three of you are the last of the family line."

A stunned silence settled on the room. Alistair looked at Maggie for help. "What do you think?"

"I'm most concerned about these undead. I fear this can only mean one thing."

Both men stared at her blankly.

"Blood magic," she explained, managing, with difficulty, not to roll her eyes.

"How is it," Bann Teagan said with disgust, "that any situation can be made worse by the mere presence of a mage?"

Maggie flushed and Alistair made an angry movement toward Teagan, but the other held up his hand. 

"I apologize. I meant no offense. Listen, we have no time to argue. We have to get to the castle right away."

"We?" Maggie asked. 

"Yes, 'we'," Teagan snapped. "He's my brother."

"Yes, and if someone happens to him, who is left to care for these people?" Alistair replied sharply.

"And," Maggie added, "you're the only one who knows what really happened to the King. You're the only one who can clear Alistair's name, and that of the Grey Wardens. No matter what Loghain thinks, the Blight  _is_  coming."

Teagan sighed deeply, looking down at his hands. "You're right. Here, take this ring. It will get you into this castle through the Windmill. If you can get past the undead first, that is."


	36. The Windmill

Maggie and Alistair made their way back outside via the window in the back of the room. No doubt the people gathered inside would eventually wonder what happened to them, but they would be long gone by then. They stole quietly around the back of the chantry, looking for Morrigan as they went. They found her standing near the shore of Lake Calenhad, staring up at the dark tower sitting in the middle. Torchlight flickered and lanterns winked past windows.

Maggie looked up at the tower, too, wondering if Irving was up there and what he was doing now. She had known him her whole life. He had protected her, taught her, cared for her. He was the closest thing to a family she could ever remember having.

A shadow crossed one of the uppermost windows, blocking out all light. Maggie felt a pang of fear strike her just then and shivered. She couldn't say exactly why. Perhaps it was simply the fear of the cold and darkness and loneliness that was waiting for her. But it felt like something more.

"Let's go," she said suddenly, turning her back on the tower.

Morrigan and Alistair shared a startled glance, but fell into step behind her. They moved quickly through the deserted streets, up the steep hill that led to Redcliffe castle. When they had, at last, reached the windmill, they stopped. 

"We'd better be prepared just in case," Alistair said, pulling out his sword. He went up to the looming structure, searching all around the base for a door, a handle, anything. The white of the walls faded to a dull brown at the bottom. There was no door, but in the center of one of the lower bricks, a small square was set into the stone. It was a picture of a tower sitting on top of a mountain, both surrounded by water. The Redcliffe heraldry. 

Alistair placed Teagan's ring onto the stone. It fit perfectly on top of the imagery. Lights glowed briefly--but brightly--beneath it, and then a crack appeared in the stone. Slowly, a door began to form around the ring. Then it swung open to allow them entry. 

"Ladies first?" Alistair asked, looking back at Maggie.

Maggie rolled her eyes and punched him lightly on the arm. She glanced into the dark room, then placed her hand around the crystal at the top of her staff. She mumbled a few well-chosen words and the tip of her staff lit with a bright, white light, which she shone ahead of her in the darkness. 

"Right behind you," Alistair said, motioning for Morrigan to join them.

They moved forward into the damp chamber. A strong, earthy smell clung to the room. After a quick search, Maggie found a trap door set into the floor. She pulled it open and went inside. Morrigan followed. Alistair sealed the outer door, then jumped down behind them and pulled the trap door closed behind him. They made their way up a long passage. The earthen walls were close and the ceiling mere feet above their heads. Maggie began to panic, feeling as though the walls were pressing in on her. It was as though they weren't moving at all. The tunnel must turn out of sight ahead, for they could see no light at the end of the tunnel. Only a pressing blackness that even her staff could not fully penetrate.

When they finally reached the bend, they found they were near the end of the long tunnel. A blank stone wall faced them. Alistair quickly found another indentation and set the ring into it. The stone seemed to slide sideways into the wall. They stepped into the dungeons of Redcliffe castle and the wall closed behind them, trapping them inside. 

"Well, it's about time," said horribly familiar voice.


	37. A Familiar Face

Maggie stood shocked, completely unable to move. This was impossible. There wasn't any way this could be happening.

"Jowan?" she whispered.

Jowan smiled, a sick and twisted thing.

"Jowan? Yes, I suppose you can call me that. Though I am much more. And much less."

"What--what do you mean?"

She felt frozen, unable to believe it. It just couldn't be true. Duncan had killed him. He was dead. And yet, there he was. Standing before them with his mages' robes and staff, blocking their only exit.

"I've been studying blood magic for some time, you know? How did you think I knew about Cullen?"

Maggie looked as though she had been slapped. Jowan laughed, cruelly.

"I studied under Uldred. He taught me to communicate with the demons. He told me all about the Harrowing before you ever even went. I went through my own version, except I found one who could help me, who I could help in turn. We grew more powerful together. And at the moment of my death, I finally gave him what he had always wanted. My soul. Now we share it, neither one or the other. But something new."

Maggie stared back at him in horror. 

"But, how? You couldn't have. There's no way!" she cried, looking for something, anything that might disprove all of this. Turn it into a sick joke--or a nightmare.

"Irving is just as blind as you are. All good people are, really. He won't know what's happening until it's too late. Just like the Wardens. Just like Eamon."

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?" she cried in frustration. 

"'What do you mean?'" Jowan mocked pitilessly. "It means this ends now. The Circle has fallen, all the mages will be destroyed. And Redcliffe is mine. Eamon is as good as dead. Connor is ours. He will rule in his father's stead and Loghain will take the throne." 

A truly evil grin spread across his face, distorting his features. 

"Maggie," Alistair said, grabbing her by the arm and turning her to face him. "Maggie! Are you all right? Do you know this man?"

"Yes," she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper. "This is the man Duncan saved me from."

Alistair whipped back around to look at Jowan, but Morrigan narrowed her eyes, studying him. She removed a large, black, leatherbound book from her bag and held it in her left hand. Jowan noticed. They stared each other down, building up their magic. Jowan fired first. A ball of fire right at Maggie. She cast a shield spell large enough to protect herself and her friends. Alistair crouched low behind his shield and began chanting. A blue glow appeared in his free hand. Jowan shot another ball of fire and Maggie's shield dissolved in the heat of the second blast. But at that moment, Alistair stood up and held the hand out toward Jowan. The glowing ball that had been building in his hand only moments before turned blue and winked out in a puff of smoke. 

Morrigan stepped forward next, taking advantage of the moment. "Let me give you a taste of  _true_  blood magic, pretender."

Morrigan held out a very old, leather-bound book. It floated off her hand as she chanted. The sound was almost musical, beautiful yet eerie at the same time. Morrigan stopped chanting and a flash of light flew out from the book and straight into Jowan's forehead. He stopped moving at once, eyes oddly blank, and dropped his hands to his sides.

"Take us to the other demon," she said. Jowan turned and moved for the door, Morrigan on his heels. 

"What have you done to him?" Maggie asked, her mouth agape.

"I have overtaken the demon within him. It won't last long, but while it does, he will be under our control."

She moved off after Jowan, still holding her book in one hand and training her other on hand, as though guiding him from behind.

"Well, are you coming?" Morrigan called back to them. 

Maggie and Alistair glanced at each other nervously, then hurried to catch up. 


	38. Abomination

The short passage led to another door, which opened into a wide open courtyard. There were, indeed, undead roaming around everywhere, but they ignored them at a gesture from Jowan. He led them across the grass to the stairs that led up to the castle. They entered through the large double doors and were almost through the main hall before Maggie saw any sign of another living creature. She was beginning to doubt there was anyone left alive at all when she spotted them at the far end of the hall, huddled in front of the fireplace. A woman and a small boy, no more than 12 years old.

Jowan stopped in front of them. But to Maggie's surprise, it was the boy who spoke, not the woman. And the voice he spoke in was the voice of no boy.

"Who are these people?" it rasped. "Why have you brought them here?"

"They wish to speak with you."

"What is wrong?" it said sharply, twitching its head, looking closely at Jowan. "You do not seem yourself."

The boy looked past Jowan at the small group behind him for the first time. When he laid eyes on Morrigan, a hiss escaped him. It was a terrible sound, more animal than human. The boy's eyes narrowed and he moved, suddenly and weirdly. His limbs bent and he crouched down, like a great four-legged spider, ready to spring. He moved his head in a jerky manner, twitching a leg, an arm. Blinking an eye. He hissed his words at them, spitting and mewling. 

Maggie was horrified. She could hardly grasp what she was seeing. 

"What have they done to him?" she whispered, her hands to her mouth.

"It is no longer a boy," Morrigan said. "It is possessed. It must be slain at once."

"What?!" Maggie began, but a heart-wrenching wail interrupted her.

"Nooooo!"

It was the woman sitting next to the boy. Morrigan started forward again, but the woman lept to her feet.

"Nooo! I won't let you!" she screamed. The boy moved behind her in his weird stilted movements, smiling at them from the safety of his shield. The woman threw her arms out as though to protect him.

"I won't let you kill my boy!" she screamed again.

The creature laughed slyly. Alistair looked angrier than Maggie had ever seen him. He made to move toward them, but Maggie stopped him.

"What are you doing? He's just a boy."

"That is no boy. My nephew is gone."

 _His nephew_ , she thought wretchedly. She thought of her mother, and of Irving, and she felt a great pity for him wash over her.

"Morrigan!" Maggie cried, rushing forward and grabbing her arm. "What do we do?"

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "Why do refuse to see what your eyes are telling you? Kill him. At once."

Connor chuckled, only his eyes glinting out at them now. "If you kill this boy, you'll kill his father too."

"What?!" cried Alistair and Maggie together.

"That mage poisoned Eamon on Loghain's orders. This boy sold me his soul to keep his father alive. Now, they are both mine. And soon, that one will be too." 

His strange eyes glinted toward Jowan.

“Lies!” Alistair roared. He pulled Maggie around to look at him. "Don't listen to it!"

"No." It was Morrigan this time. "It is not lying."

Alistair turned on her in frustration. "Tell me there's something else we can do. Anything! Please!"

Morrigan gave Alistair a hard look. "I--may--be able to open a way into the Fade. If I did, Maggie could enter and battle the demon there."

"Will it be dangerous?"

"Of course it will," she snapped. "But it is the only chance to save the boy. And even then he may still die. But at least he would die as himself."

"And what about Maggie?"

"She will only die if she loses to the demon."

"What's the catch?" Alistair replied, sounding skeptical.

"It would require a blood ritual. And it would mean death for the sacrifice."

Alistair looked stricken. "Is there no other way?" 

"None that I can see."

He turned back to Maggie. "What do you think?"

Maggie looked back at Alistair. She would enter the Fade without question if there was even a chance that she could save the boy. But then she thought back to what Jowan had said. 

_Irving won't know what hit him until it's too late. The Circle has fallen, all the mages will be destroyed._

"Morrigan, was he telling the truth about Uldred and the tower?"

"Yes."

"How much time do we have before this boy or his father is consumed?"

Morrigan threw her a sharp look. "Hours, maybe. Certainly not days."

"Why?" Alistair asked, looking between them. "What is it?"

"What he said about Kinloch Hold, if we went back. Made sure they were okay, we could bring some Irving back with us. He could help send me into the fade without needing a sacrifice. It wouldn't take long, but if what Jowan says is true and they're already--" she stopped, unable to say the words.

"It's worth a try, isn't it?" she went on when she had control of herself again.

"I don't know," Alistair replied. "It seems like an awfully big chance to take."

"What's wrong with you!" Maggie yelled at him suddenly, pounding his chest with her fists. "How can you go along with this? A blood ritual?”

Alistair grabbed her fists gently. "Duncan told me what he did to you."

He turned his stare on Jowan and the venom in his voice held her motionless. Her breath caught. What _had_ Duncan told him?

"Duncan killed him once for what he did to you. And yet, here he is again. Causing more destruction. Poisoning my Uncle. Allowing my nephew to become possessed. He deserves nothing better. And I won't risk what is left of my family to save this bit of filth. After we're done here, we'll go to the Circle to check on Irving and your friends. I swear it.”

”And the boy?”

“We'll send for Connor after we make sure the tower is safe. After all, if he had gone there to begin with, none of this would have happened.”

Alistair shot a hard glance at the woman when he said this. She flinched back from him as though she had been slapped.  

"Alistair?" she whispered, a glint of recognition entering into her eyes at last.

"Yes, Isolde. It’s me.”

"Did Teagan send you? You will help us, won't you?"

"Why did you do it, Isolde?" he asked her.

"I--I could not bear to lose him. They would have taken him away!"

"For good reason," he said, his eyes glancing to the  _thing_  behind her that was once her son.

The look on his face was terrible.

"Yes," she said, her eyes on his. "Yes, you're right. Please, just help us! Help him! He is innocent!"

Alistair's face softened. He glanced at Maggie. She was staring at him hard.

"Please," he whispered. She looked back at Jowan once more. Finally, she closed her eyes and nodded.

"Thank you," he said, leaning his head forward to rest it upon hers. "Thank you."

"Ugh. If you're finished," said Morrigan loudly from behind. She took a dagger from her robes and handed it to Alistair. "Prepare yourself."


	39. The Ritual

Jowan walked forward and lay down on the floor where Morrigan instructed him. She drew a large pentagram around him, placing candles on each point. Then she bound it all within a circle. Magic hummed thickly in the air. Morrigan sat at Jowan's head, her attention on the ritual. Alistair stood above him, pale as a ghost. The point of the knife glinting in the candlelight.

Isolde sat inside of another circle, holding the thing that was once her son. It twisted and pulled and tried to get away. He began to weep, to plead with her in Connor's voice. Then back to madness, spewing curses and promising punishment. But she held onto him all the same.

Maggie lay on the floor between the two circles. Once the spell took hold, she would be thrust into the Fade and would be able to battle this creature there. It was something she had done only once before and had felt lucky to have survived. And now, she had to do it again. But this time, it was for a good reason. The first time, at her Harrowing, it had been akin to a drowning. The Templars had forced her there for no good reason and thrown her into the deep end to see if she could swim. And if she could not? Well, better luck next time. Oh, sorry. We forgot. There isn't a 'next time' if you're a mage.

"Are you ready?" came Morrigan's monotone voice. All her concentration was going into the spell.

Maggie took a deep breath, looking up at Alistair's face as she did. He was crying. His face was determined, his hands steady. But tears poured down his face. Maggie felt her heart go out to him then, more than she had ever felt for another before. 

"Yes," she said when he didn't respond. He glanced down at her gratefully.

"Yes," he echoed.

And Morrigan released the spell. As it flowed out from her, Alistair brought the dagger down into Jowan's chest. It pierced him right above the heart, the blade driving all the way up to the hilt. Jowan shuddered and twitched. As his lifeblood poured out of him, Maggie felt her consciousness being pulled along with it.

Alistair looked down at Jowan. He let go of the knife, looked at the blood covering his hands. Then he saw Maggie, lying as silent and still as the dead man before him. He rushed over to her and, for one terrible moment, he thought she was dead too. Had the witch, perhaps, tricked them? Killed them both? But then he saw that she was still breathing. Very, very faintly, but breathing. He looked at the boy and saw how still he was in his mother's arms. She was crying. 

Alistair sat down and placed Maggie's head in his lap. He stroked her hair and spoke to her softly.

"Thank you, Maggie. Thank you. I know you can do it. Come back to me, ok? Duncan would never forgive me if something happened to you. I swore to protect you, and yet here you are, protecting me. And my family. Thank you. Thank you."

The minutes stretched out in tortuous slowness. It might have been hours. Or days. They waited. There was no way to know what was happening on the other side. They would only know when it was over. If Maggie woke up, if Connor came back to himself.

 _But what if he doesn't?_  Alistair thought suddenly.  _What if I put her through all of this, only for Connor to die? How could I have asked this of her?! Wait to save your friends. Go into the Fade and battle a demon for me, okay?_  

For this was the thing, above all, that had given him the strength to drive a blade into another man's chest. Not the thought of his family. Not the thought of his duty. It was the thought of what he had done to Maggie. To this sweet, kind, beautiful girl. This girl who would risk her body and her soul to help him without question. Just as he was able to do what he did because of her, he knew that Maggie would never have agreed to this if it wasn't for him. Because he asked her to. Even if it meant the boy dying, he was sure she would have tried anything else first. She had done it for him and he loved her for it.


	40. Protection

Maggie opened her eyes to find Alistair staring down at her.

"You're okay!" he cried, leaning down and kissing her on the forehead. "Thank goodness. I was so worried!"

Maggie realized at the same time that her head was lying in his lap and she blushed scarlet. She sat up and looked around, but found only Morrigan standing nearby.

"What happened?" she asked. "Did it work? "

"Oh, yes. It worked," Morrigan replied. "You have been out for quite some time, though."

"Where are Isolde and Connor?"

"The boy is lying down and the mother is with the Arl."

"How is he?"

"He is still unwell, but he is awake, thanks to you. He should be all right after a while, once he has had a chance to heal."

"We need to get to the tower right away," Maggie said, trying to stand up. She found that she was still too weak, however. Alistair pulled her back down.

"You can't go anywhere in your condition," he said sternly.

Maggie looked at Morrigan, but she shook her head. "He is right. The Arl is in no immediate danger. We should rest first. They will need to wait for the Arl to become stronger before they can head to Denerim. We will go to the Circle then meet them in Denerim for the Landsmeet."

Maggie nodded her understanding and Morrigan moved off to find her own silent corner somewhere. Alistair brought Maggie her bag then went to get his own. They lay down in front of the fire together, head to head.

"Alistair?"

"Hm?"

"What did you mean when you said you swore to protect me?"

Alistair was quiet for a long time. Finally, he said, "It was something Duncan said to me the night he died."

"What?"

"He said, '"I have sworn to protect this girl. That she would have my arm as her shield.'"

"Swore? Swore to who?"

"I don't know. He didn't say."

Fay looked at the bag lying next to her. At Cullen's name stitched into the front. Could it have been he? She thought of the kiss they had shared and shivered. After he had left her, she thought it meant he didn't care. But he had brought her the bag. And her drawings. What if he really had cared?

A shock shot through her like lightning. What if Uldred really had taken over the tower? What would he do to the Templars? To Cullen? She suddenly regretted her decision to perform the ritual, to stay and rest. She was glad she had been able to help save the boy and the Arl. But at what cost?


	41. The Nightmare

After what felt like just a few minutes, Alistair was shaking Maggie awake.

"Maggie? Wake up. It's time to go."

She sat up, bleary-eyed, and blinked at Alistair.

"How are they? Connor and your Uncle?"

Alistair gave her a tired smile. "Much better thanks to you."

He knelt beside her and took both of her hands in his own.

"I'll never forget this, you know? What you did for them."

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, then took her hands once more. They sat staring at each other for a minute until Morrigan's voice came floating back up the stairs, making them jump.

"Maggie? Alistair? It's time." 

"Coming," Alistair called back. He pulled her to her feet and they quickly gathered their things. When they went back downstairs, they found Morrigan already sitting at a large, polished table. It could have fit an army with room to spare. There were two additional spaces set with food and drink. They sat and ate their meal quickly and then they were off.

They traveled North and West now, circling behind Redcliffe Village to get to the docks. The mountainous terrain was difficult to traverse on foot and their pace was slow. Maggie became more and more distressed the longer it took to get to the Circle Tower. She tried to hide it, but it was difficult when the three of them spent so much time together. She was quiet for the most part and irritable when made to join in conversation. Not only was she worried about her mentor and her friends, she was now having nightmares every night.

On the second night of their journey back to Kinloch Hold, Maggie retired early. She lay in her tent for hours, unable to sleep. When she finally did drift off, she fell right back into the same nightmare. The Circle Tower, dark and empty. Bodies littered the floor. Blood everywhere. And an eerie singing. It seemed to come from all around her. Everywhere and nowhere all at once. Then she realized she wasn't alone. At the far end of the chamber, a man stood weeping. She moved closer, afraid. Unsure if this man was the killer or a victim. As she neared, she saw the red hair glinting in a stray beam of moonlight. It was Cullen. He looked up as she drew nearer. His face screwed up in anger. 

 _You!_ he yelled, stretching out an accusatory finger at her.  _This is all your fault!_

Maggie felt a hand on her back and woke up, screaming and drenched in sweat. At first, she thought she was looking at Cullen, as though the ghost of her dream had been pulled into reality. But then she realized that it was Alistair. That she was in her tent, that they were still at least a day away from the tower. She began to cry, burying her face in her hands. In a moment, Alistair was there, his arms around her. 

"What is it? Was it a nightmare?"

She nodded, still unable to speak. Alistair tilted her face up to his, wiping away the tears still streaming from her eyes. 

"Shhh. Don't cry. I'm here now."

She nodded again, smiling a little now.

"Will you stay with me?" she whispered.

"Of course I will. I'll always be here."

They lay together in the darkness and he held her all through the night, and through all the nights that followed.


	42. Back to the Circle

After three days, they finally reached the docks where they could purchase a ferry across to the island. It was daytime, so there weren't any lights winking out at them, but there seemed to be no other movement either. Was it just her imagination? For to her, it seemed as still and silent as a graveyard.

The ferry ride across Lake Calenhad was not pleasant. The wind was cold and the water was colder. It sprayed back in their faces and drenched their hair and clothes. But before long, they were gliding into a tunnel that led to a little underground dock. They deboarded, looking around at the room they found themselves in. It was a little cavern with a single flight of old wooden stairs leading up to an equally old door set high in the rock wall. They climbed the stairs carefully, wincing at the many creaks and groans as they did. When they reached the top, they knocked, the sound booming loudly around the cavern.

It was many minutes before someone finally came to the door. Morrigan cast a charm to make herself hidden from view.

"Hm, probably a good idea," Alistair said thoughtfully. Then, though she was quite invisible, he added, "And don't look at me like that."

Morrigan chuckled. A few seconds later, the door opened it. A Templar stood there, looking wary.

"Yes, who is it?"

"I'm Maggie, a mage of the circle and now a Grey Warden. I come seeking an audience with First Enchanter Irving," Maggie replied formally.

The eyes behind the helm widened and the door opened. They stepped inside a short dark hallway. The Templar turned without a word and led them down the passage and into the main entrance to the Circle Tower. There were two other doors leading into this room, one to the North that led further into the tower, and one to the South that led out onto the grounds. Templars stood around the room in tight little groups. Many weren't speaking at all. Those that did, spoke in whispers.

Morrigan hung back in the passage while Maggie and Alistair entered the hall. The Templars stiffened as she walked by, stopping their conversations and staring at her with varying degrees of alarm and fear. And some with hatred.

"What's going on?" Maggie whispered to the Templar leading them. A hot bubble of fear was growing in her stomach. There was something terribly wrong here.

The Templar did not answer them, but led them on across the room. He stopped in front of a man speaking to several others. They were whispering heatedly. Maggie noticed that there were no mages around. Her fear increased.

"Knight-Commander. This mage wishes to speak with you. She says she is a circle mage and a Grey Warden."

Knight-Commander Greagoir turned to face them, looking grimmer than she had ever seen him.

"What is it?" she asked at once. "What has happened?"

"You?" he asked. "How do I know you are who you say you are?"

Maggie was confused for a moment, then she realized that she had still been under Jowan's control the last time Greagoir had seen her. And with Jowan dead, there was no way for her to prove she wasn't possessed.

"Greagoir, it's me. Maggie. Please, you have to believe me. Duncan saved me from Jowan. I survived the Joining. I'm a Grey Warden."

"I know," he said. "I have also heard that you are a traitor."

"That's a lie!" Alistair burst out.

Greagoir stared grimly back at him. "And yet, that is what Loghain is spreading across the land. That there is no Blight. That the Wardens are traitors. That they killed the King."

Alistair started to speak again, but Maggie laid a hand on his arm to still him.

"And what do you think?" she asked quietly.

Greagoir looked at her for a long time and then, to her surprise, he smiled.

"I think," he said wolfishly, "the Wardens are not the only ones who can sense trouble."

Maggie grinned back at him and they shook hands. He excused himself from the other Templars and led them back to the passage where they had entered. Morrigan was nowhere to be seen.

"Privacy," he explained as he shut the door to the chamber.

"What's going on?" Maggie asked at once.

"Blood mages. In the tower."

Alistair groaned. "So he was telling the truth."

Greagoir threw a sharp glance at him. "Who was telling the truth? About what?"

Maggie explained about Jowan, though she left out Connor's possession and the blood ritual. She would save that bit of information for Irving's ears alone.

"What happened to Jowan?" he asked her when she had finished.

"I-" Maggie began, unsure of what she was going to say.

"I killed him," Alistair cut in. "He was a blood mage, an abomination. I did my duty."

He and Greagoir stood looking at each other for a time. Then Greagoir nodded. Maggie felt Alistair relax next to him. She felt a wave of gratitude wash over her.

"But where is Irving?" Maggie asked.

"I do not know. My men fought the blood mages as long as they could but I had to pull out at last. There are some still up there. They could be dead. Or worse."

"And Cullen?" she asked in a whisper. The thing she had been most afraid of. Part of her hoped Greagoir would laugh and point across the room. But another part of her knew he wouldn't.

Greagoir shook his head. "I'm sorry. He didn't make it back. I don't know what happened to the rest. I've sent word to Denerim. Asked for the Right of Annulment. If Uldred has infected them all, what chance do we have?"

Maggie gasped.

"What is it?" Alistair asked.

"The Rite of Annulment allows the Templars to cleanse the circle in extreme cases," supplied Greagoir. "It means we will have to kill them all."

"But what about Cullen? Irving?"

"I told you," Greagoir said, getting angry now. "We tried! If we couldn't do it, what makes you think you can?"

"I can protect them," Morrigan said, dissolving her invisibility spell.

Greagoir jumped. Alistair laughed but Maggie jabbed him and he quickly turned it into a cough. Greagoir and Morrigan were staring each other down, apparently trying to get the measure of each other. Or attempting to murder each other with a glance.

Finally, Morrigan broke the silence. "You have little choice,  _Templar_."

Greagoir grunted. "I suppose you're right,  _apostate."_

They sneered at each other until Maggie stepped between them.

"Show us the way," she said.

He took them back across the chamber to the door that led within. There, he and a pair of guards released the magical enchantments.

"We will seal this door after you. We will only open it again once you have Irving." He paused. "Or until the rest of the mages are dead."

Maggie blanched at his words and the coldness with which he uttered them.

"I am sorry,” he said, more gently this time. “But we must be prepared.”

He gave her a weak smile, which she returned as best she could. Then she, Alistair and Morrigan stepped into the darkness and Greagoir sealed the door behind them.


	43. An Impossible Choice

Stepping into the tower was like stepping back into one of her nightmares. The narrow, circular halls were still and silent. No movement disturbed the darkness. The lower floors were mostly empty, though they stumbled across a few Tranquil near the storerooms. They hurried on, up the winding staircases to the higher floors. The closer they got to the dorms, the worse it got. Piles of bodies. Blood splashed across the walls. The carpets were soaked with it. Maggie was horrified by what she was seeing. Alistair, too, looked as though he was having trouble dealing with it. Morrigan simply looked bored. 

Maggie saw several people she thought she recognized. She hurried on, trying not to look at their faces. Trying not to think about what had to have happened to have caused all this blood. They came to another stairwell and took it. They were up past the senior mage quarters now. When they came out of the door at the top of the stairwell, Maggie stopped. Alistair almost ran into her. She swayed on the spot and he caught her.

"What is it?" he asked, whispering without even realizing it.

He looked across the room where she was staring and there, he saw it. A man with red hair surrounded by the white glow of a shield bubble. And Maggie standing next to him. She was completely naked, standing before Cullen with her hands outstretched toward him. 

"Come to me, Cullen," the Maggie who was not Maggie said. "We'll be happy together, just you and I. Who needs anything else? Who needs the Chantry and the Maker when you can have me?"

"Nooo!" Cullen wailed, and the sound tore at her heart.

"Begone, demon!" Maggie cried, rushing forward, a spell already building into her staff. "Get away from him!"

The thing that was Maggie seemed to melt before them. Her features ran together, then reformed. Her skin changed color and her limbs lengthened as she turned back into her true form. A desire demon.

Alistair ran forward with her. There was no time to think right now. No time to think about the fact that the demon who had sought this man out had been a desire demon. And that the demon had chosen to take Maggie's form. He blushed, remembering her naked body, and the desire demon turned its attention on him. It smiled. 

"Mmmm, you too, I see," she purred at him. "She  _is_  a popular one, isn't she?"

Maggie flushed. "Shut up, demon!"

"Maggie? Is that you?" asked a weak voice. Cullen looked between her and the demon, hopeful, confused. And then, quite suddenly, his shield melted away and he fell to the floor.

Maggie rushed to him while Alistair and Morrigan moved to intercept the demon. It tried to get around them, but Morrigan shot a spell at her. A blast of lightning hit her in the side, charring her skin. The demon looked at the mark, then at Morrigan. 

"Look what you did," she pouted. "Why do you interfere?"

"He is ours," Morrigan replied. 

The demon threw back her head and laughed. "Yours? And who are you? That boy is mine! I have seen his heart and the desire that lies within it. It is only a matter of time."

"Time you no longer have, demon. Return to the Fade or face the three of us."

The demon scowled, still holding her side. She sized the three of them up, then looked down at the unconscious Cullen and scoffed. 

"You're lucky. Today," she said. "Maybe not so lucky next time."

And then she was gone.

"Cullen? Cullen?"

Maggie was still trying to wake him up, but he wasn't stirring. Alistair and Morrigan cleared the room. There was only one more door, leading to the Harrowing Chamber. 

"This must be where they are," Alistair said.

He looked down at Maggie, trying to still the pangs of jealousy he felt as she held Cullen and brushed his hair from his face. She continued saying his name and he finally began to stir. Morrigan and Alistair took up stations beside the door to the Harrowing chamber. 

"Maggie?" he murmured, reaching up to stroke her cheek. "Is it really you?"

"Yes, Cullen," she said, catching his hand and holding it in both of hers. "It's really me. What happened?"

"It was Uldred. Uldred and the blood mages. They--they took over the tower. Killed any mages who wouldn't join them. Tortured us. Set demons on us."

"Where is Irving? Is he still alive?"

Cullen sat up, leaning back against the wall for support. He nodded his head, still looking extremely grave.

"What is it?" she asked. 

"Uldred is in there with him and the rest of the senior mages. He has threatened to turn them into abominations unless they join him. I fear he may already have succeeded."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"How do we know they are still themselves?" he asked. "Even if you kill Uldred, how can you ever really know for sure?"

"But, think about what you're saying Cullen!" she cried. "What about me?"

"What about you?" he asked coldly.

She hesitated, confused.

"I mean, you know, with Jowan." She stopped, blushing. It was still difficult to talk about, especially with Cullen.

"Yes, and you've been plaguing me for the last three days and nights," he said, more coldly still. "How do I know you aren't just another demon sent here to torment me?!"

 _Three days,_ she thought.  _Oh, no. The dreams were real. He was calling for me. Blaming me for not coming sooner! It's my fault! All my fault!_

Maggie began to back away from him, horrified.

"They know my weakness!" he continued, burying his head in his hands as though to protect himself. "They know that I love you even though I can never have you. But you! You would tempt me! You would try to make me leave my calling!"

"No! No, I wouldn't. I never meant to--"

"If it really is you, then you have to kill them," he said, grabbing her wrist and pulled her close. "Kill them all."

And then he passed out, lying as still as the dead on the blood-soaked floor.


	44. Irving

When Maggie stepped through the door, it was like stepping into a nightmare. The room looked just as it did on the night of the Harrowing except that now bodies littered the floor. Irving and a few senior mages who had managed to survive thus far were lined up against the far wall. Uldred and his little band of maleficarum stood across from them. It was obvious they had been torturing them, trying to force them to lose what little remained of their willpower and sanity.

"Irving!" she cried, without thinking, running straight into the room.

Alistair grabbed her and held her back. "Stop! They'll just kill you too!"

"Kill them?" a sly, silky voice said. Uldred turned around. "I don't think so. And why would I kill them when, very soon, we will all be brothers and sisters?"

He was tall and thin with a completely bald head and dark, empty eyes. His gaze fell onto Maggie and held her there.

"Ahhh," he sighed. "Jowan's prize. What are you doing here?"

"Prize?!" she said, outraged.

Uldred laughed. "Well, what have you done with him?"

"He's dead," she replied, defiantly. "You failed. Connor's fine and the Arl will be, too!"

Uldred frowned. He stared at her, trying to decide whether or not to believe her. 

"It's true," Alistair said, stepping forward. Uldred's eyes narrowed as he looked Alistair up and down. 

"You travel with a Templar?" he asked Maggie, scorn in his voice. "You're just like Irving. Obedient sheep, the both of you!"

"Not just any Templar," Alistair replied, drawing himself up to his full height. "The Arl was my Uncle. You will pay for what you have done!"

"Your uncle, eh? So you are the bastard son Loghain spoke of. I had heard that you were dead. But no matter, you will all be dead soon!"

And he moved so suddenly, it was like a glimmer of light. One moment he was standing in the middle of the room and the next, he was standing right in front of Irving. He grabbed the old man and pulled him to his feet. Irving's eyes fell on Maggie's and he gave her a slight smile.

"It will be all ri..." he began, but he never finished the sentence. Uldred raised his arm and then brought the knife swiftly down, right into the old man's heart.  Irving continued mouthing words for a moment, clutching at the blade now protruding from his chest. But no sound issued forth. Instead, blood began to leak down his chest, soaking into the once-green robes. And then he slumped forward, dead. Uldred let him fall to the floor in a crumpled, bloody heap.

"No!" Maggie screamed, attempting to run to him. Alistair grabbed her and held her back. 

"No!" she cried again, as though the word itself would make it so it hadn't happened. As though it would bring Irving back.

"Let me go, Alistair," she said, twisting to look back at him. "Let me go now! I'll kill him. I'll kill him!"

She wrenched herself from his grasp, her hair whipping around her face. She looked quite mad. Alistair backed slowly away, his hands held out in front of him.

"Maggie?" he whispered. And then a hand grabbed him.


	45. The Explosion

Outside the Harrowing Chamber, Cullen began to stir. It took him a moment to remember where he was and what had happened to him. When he did remember, he jumped to his feet, meaning to follow Maggie into the Harrowing Chamber. But as he got up and looked around, he realized that the room was empty. The demons who had been haunting him for so many days now were gone. He took a step forward, toward the door, and that was when the rumbling began.

It started at a point just inside the chamber but grew steadily outward, growing in intensity. He stared, horrified, at the closed door. He was unable to move either toward it or away. Nor to think what this might mean. He simply stood there, stunned. And then the door flew open and a young woman ran out, pulling someone with her. They were surrounded by the bluish light of a shield spell, but it obviously hadn't been enough. Their clothes and hair were singed and smoke poured out through the shield. Cullen recognized them as the pair who had been with Maggie. 

He started toward them, meaning to question them, to find out what had happened to Maggie. And then a huge blast, unlike anything Cullen had heard before, rang out through the chamber, followed by a wave of invisible force that sent them all flying. Smoke and fire poured from the chamber. Cullen found himself lying on the floor on the opposite side of the chamber. His ears were ringing. It was like being inside a bubble. He vision swam in and out, noises seemed to come through a sort of haze in his brain. Movement shifted on the outside of his vision.

And then his head cleared and his brain ground back into gear, trying to grasp something. Something important. He sat up, giving his head a little shake. His vision cleared and he looked around him. He watched as the young man pulled the woman to her feet. They both turned toward the door. And then it hit him.

"Maggie!" he screamed and picked himself up from the ground. He stumbled, but caught himself and began hauling himself toward the door, screaming her name as though his life depended on it. But the other young man stopped him. They looked at each other for a moment, Cullen looking defiant and the other looking scared. But their eyes met and Cullen saw his own pain mirrored there. The young man shook his head, diverting his eyes, and Cullen finally stopped struggling against him. 

"She isn't...?"

He stopped. He couldn't quite seem to get the words out.

"She's not...?"

The man shook his head again, still not looking at Cullen. And then Cullen remembered. He remembered how he had thought Maggie was just another demon. How he had begged her to kill the mages trapped within that room. To kill them all for being touched by blood magic. He stared at the door, his eyes widening in shock and horror. He felt sick. He pulled away from the man's grasp, gasping and retching as he fell to his knees. 

 _Maker help me,_  he thought in despair.  _What have I done? What have I made her do?_


	46. Escape from the Tower

Maggie sat, a lonely figure inside a blackened and scorched room. Charred and smoking bodies littered the floor. Uldred's flesh had nearly melted from his bones with the force of the heat. Maggie couldn't remember what had happened. She looked down at her blackened hands, wondering. Then someone put a hand on her shoulder. She didn't know who. They picked her up, carried her from the room. She didn't fight them. They carried her into the next room where another man was on his knees and a woman was wiping down her clothes. Then everything went black.

The next thing she remembered, she was lying on a blanket and staring at a blank stone wall. She sat up, Duncan's cloak sliding off of her as she did so. She looked around, trying to orient herself, but it was quite dark. She appeared to be in a small room with a single torch burning in a bracket. She was lying on a blanket on the floor. Books were piled on a desk nearby. A Templar sat in the chair, his head slumped down onto his chest in sleep. She got up quietly, unable to remember where she was or how she had got there. Perhaps she was still dreaming?

She pulled her cloak back around her and slipped out of the room. She heard voices coming from her left. When she left the room and started down the hall, she quickly realized she was back in the circle tower. But she couldn't remember how she had come to be there. She stopped for a moment, disconcerted by this. She looked down, momentarily shocked to find herself in a robe that did not belong to her. She had on no shoes and her feet were cold against the stone floor. She shivered, pulling her cloak more tightly around her. What had happened to her?

Shaking her head as though to clear it, she continued to move down the hall. She was still unable to remember what had happened, and as she walked, she tried to remember. Everything that had happened since leaving the tower was a blur. It was like her entire life had led up to that moment at a steady, quiet pace. And then she had been suddenly thrust out into the darkness. Everything had happened so fast and it was all so far out of her control, her head spun when she tried to grasp at it all at once. She thought back to the last time she had been in the tower. She had gone through her Harrowing and Cullen--

Maggie stopped mid-stride. The shock of the memories crashed back over her all at once. She saw his kind, sweet face as it once had been. Then she saw it change into the tormented version that had held onto her wrist, begging her to kill them. To kill them all.

 _Oh no_ , she thought, quite unable to breathe. _Please don't tell me..._

She began to run now, her feet padding silently on the stones, her cloak billowing out behind her in the darkness as she ran. She came to an archway and stopped, grabbing the wall to steady herself. She was breathing hard now, much harder than she should have done for such a short distance. She saw the glimmer of light coming from somewhere ahead. She heard the murmur of voices. She went toward them, slowly now, straining to hear what they were saying.

"...can't take her and that's final!" a voice was saying heatedly.

"You have no authority over me! You aren't even a Templar. You're nothing!"

Maggie started forward, but stopped at a motion in the darkness, her heart pounding. But it was only Morrigan, leaning against a side wall and plainly eavesdropping on the conversation happening beyond the door. Morrigan put her finger to her lips and Maggie nodded to show she understood. She sank back into the darkness, waiting.

"I am a Grey Warden," the voice replied, growing louder now. "And so is she. We don't answer to you. Now, unless you plan to stop us by force, we're leaving. _All_ of us."

A moment later, the door was thrown open and Alistair marched out, fuming. He saw Morrigan and went straight to her.

"Get your things. We must leave at once. I just hope I can get her out without waking the guard."

Morrigan cut her eyes to the patch of shadows where Maggie hid. Alistair looked over his shoulder, saw her pale face shining out at him. He turned away from Morrigan and hurried over to her at once.

"Come, we must get you out of here!" he hissed in her ear.

"Alistair," she whimpered, grasping his arm and looking him in the eye. "What have I done?"

She dissolved into tears. He lifted her into his arms as though she weighed no more than a child and carried her from the room, while Morrigan slipped off to gather their things.


	47. Stay With Me

They took the little boat back they had rented at the docks back across the freezing waters to the shore. No one spoke during the trip. They ate a quick meal at the inn there, the Spoiled Princess. Then they were back on the road, intending to put as much space between themselves and the Circle Tower as possible before nightfall. 

Maggie didn't sleep well that night. She tossed and turned inside her tent. Finally, she got up and went out to sit by the campfire, unable to stop the voices in her head. Alistair was sitting beside the fire when she arrived, and she joined him gladly. She still hadn't spoken to anyone since the day before. She felt that, perhaps, they would not want her to. That, perhaps, they thought her a murderer. But they had stayed with her. Alistair had fought for her freedom. And they were pressing on to Denerim together.

Alistair handed her a hot mug of tea as she sat down at the fire and she smiled her thanks, gently blowing on the hot liquid while she waited for it to cool.

"It's not your fault, you know," he said very quietly, not looking at her.

Maggie said nothing.

"They were already lost."

"No, Alistair. They weren't. There were people still in that room. They were alive..."

She shook her head, unable to go on. Tears came before she realized they were going to, and she dropped her face to the steam of her cup, trying to hide them from Alistair. Alistair got up and went over to her. He took the cup from her hands, setting it aside. Then he pulled her to his feet, wrapping his arms around her waist. She looked up at him, their breath quickening.

They were so close now, they were nearly touching. She could see the freckles on his long, fine nose. He was very handsome, even when he was looking so serious. His hands traveled up her back, pressing her closer to him while he lowered his face to hers. Up the back of her neck, thumbs stroking the sides of her chin, then moving up to wipe the tears from her eyes. She closed her eyes and he leaned in to kiss her forehead. Her cheeks. The corners of her mouth. Her breath caught in her chest and he stopped. But when she didn't pull away, he finally kissed her fully on the mouth. Shyly. Sweetly.

They broke apart and he rested his forehead on hers, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

"I'm afraid to sleep," she whispered. "Will you stay with me?"

He nodded and they went back into the little tent together. They lay curled together as they had done on their travels to the circle tower, but there was something more to it this time. Something else in the room with them. Something unspoken and unseen, but just as real as the two of them.


	48. Denerim

The road to Denerim was a much more easy journey than the one to the Circle Tower had been. The road was flat and well-worn by much use and they made their way along it quickly. The night before they arrived in Denerim, they found a little, secluded clearing outside the city and set up camp there instead of at an inn. They had been feeling very uncomfortable since their flight from the Circle Tower. Templars may not have come upon them from behind--yet--but they could have sent word ahead to Denerim's chantry. In fact, Alistair was almost sure of it. Maggie hadn't asked about Cullen and Alistair hadn't thought it wise to offer the information yet, but the Knight-Commander had informed him that Cullen would be transferred to Denerim. He could no longer stay within the walls of the Circle Tower. 

 _And no wonder_ , thought Alistair as he walked behind Maggie. It was another reason to stay outside the city. He had no idea how Cullen would react if he saw Maggie. Or what Maggie would do if she knew how much Cullen was suffering over what had happened.

Alistair had been paying Maggie very close attention for the past several days, but she had only grown more and more distant. He knew she blamed herself for what had happened in the tower, though they hadn't spoken of it at all since that first night. But he had stayed with her every night since. She didn't sleep well. She tossed and turned. When she actually did fall asleep, she often woke screaming from nightmares. There was nothing he could do for her. He didn't know how to ease her pain, to help her clear her conscience, no matter how much he wanted to. He didn't blame her, he was sure that Cullen didn't either. But that wouldn't stop her from blaming herself.

As to himself, he had been thinking more and more of his old mentor lately. How he had asked him to protect Maggie. Wondering if he had known what that would mean, in the end. But he must have known. For there was only one way to kill an Archdemon.

The evening finally came and the Arl's men came with it. Their camp afforded a view of the road to the East, and they could see the Arl's men marching down it long before they came to their stretch of road. He left Maggie and Morrigan at the camp and went out to meet the Forward Scout. Then he waited for his Uncle to arrive. 

It felt strange to think of the Arl as his Uncle. He had fought so hard against being 'the bastard son' that he had hardly noticed what little family he did have around him. Technically, they weren't even his family. They were Cailan's. But the Arl had still seen him as Cailan's brother, as his nephew. But then the Arl had married Isolde, and she had sent him from the home in jealousy and fear. He had disowned them, then, in his mind. He had never wanted to be someone other than himself so much. But he had been left there for years and years. Eventually, even Eamon had stopped coming to see him.

But then, one day, Duncan had arrived. He had talked to Alistair, listened to him. And, when Alistair said he wanted to leave, Duncan had taken him away even against the wishes of the Revered Mother. No one had fought for him like that before. He thought about what Maggie had told him. That Duncan had once said Alistair reminded him of his father, King Maric. He had never known his father. Was not raised as Cailin's brother. He was not royalty. But now, for the first time, he felt he might understand his father more than he ever had before. 

Being King wasn't about having power. It was about having responsibility. About sacrificing one's own wants and needs for the betterment of the land and its people. He had never felt more like a King--and as he looked back at Maggie, he never felt more desperation to run from that fate.


	49. Plans Within Plans

When the Arl arrived that evening at the end of his entire host of men, Alistair went off to meet them, then joined the Arl at his estate in town. Maggie stayed with Morrigan back at the camp. She settled herself by the fire and took out her sketchbook. She hadn't given it much thought since leaving. She flipped through it now, her heart thumping painfully each time a sketch of Cullen came up. And they did so often. And there were Karl, and Anders, and Jowan. Back when they were young and innocent and friends. 

 _And foolish_ , she thought sadly. She turned the page harshly on Jowan and there was Duncan. She had sketched him from the back, his long black hair drawn up into a ponytail, his face turned so that his profile was just visible. He stood with his back straight and his hands on his hips, seemingly lost in thought. She thought back to what Alistair had told her. That Duncan had begun to hear the Calling. That he had known his time was ending. For the first time, she thought of her own fate. And Alistar’s. For they had all gone through the Joining. They had all promised to make the ultimate sacrifice. But perhaps that sacrifice could mean different things for different people.

Tears fell from her lashes onto her book. To her surprise, she realized she had been sketching. Meaningless lines at first, but then the shading had begun to take form. She continued to shape it and Alistair's face slowly emerged. Kind, thoughtful, boyishly handsome. Her heart skipped a few beats as she thought about him, remembering the kiss they had shared and the night that had followed, full of unspoken wants and needs.

"Maggie."

Maggie jumped, nearly dropping her book in her surprise. She whipped around, but it was just Morrigan. 

"Yes, what is it?" she asked warily. Morrigan had been acting so strange lately. She hadn't been joining them for meals or talking to them in camp.

"We need to talk," Morrigan replied, sitting down next to her, her Grimoire sitting closed on her knees. She sat staring down at it for some time before she finally spoke again.

"What has Alistair told you about the Archdemon?"

Maggie didn't know why, but she felt her skin prickle and her stomach clench.

"Just that it must be a Grey Warden who kills it."

"Do you know why?"

"No."

There was a long pause, finally broken by Maggie. "Are you saying that you do?"

Morrigan looked at her sharply. "This book is not just a collection of spells. It is filled with ancient magic, going all the way back to the days of Elvhenan. When we left, my mother gave it to me to study. In it, she recorded what she has learned over the centuries."

She paused at the skeptical look Maggie had just given her. "Yes, centuries. Flemeth is no ordinary Witch. But that is neither here nor there. What is, however, is that she knew of the sacrifice of the Wardens long before they showed up at Ostagar. Why do you think we lived in that valley? She was protecting the ancient manuscripts hidden there, at the very outer entrance of the towers. Long forgotten by men, but not by the ancient Dragons. Because, within them, is held the secret of their destruction."

"And what is that?"

"The secret to the Grey Warden's power. A drop of an Archdemon's blood is mixed in with the blood of the darkspawn and ingested during the Joining ritual. If they survive, they now carry the taint, a small part of the Archdemon's power within them. Just as the darkspawn themselves do."

"So what does that mean?"

"Normally, when an Archdemon is killed, it's spirit simply jumps to that of another darkspawn. They share the taint, so they can share souls. When a Grey Warden kills an Archdemon, however, the drop of blood within them is enough to trap the Archdemon's spirit within themselves. But it is too much for a mortal body and both are killed. This is the only known way to kill an Archdemon."

Maggie was in shock. She sat perfectly still, any icy hand gripping her heart. They had known this. They had known all the time and they hadn't told her. Why? Had the plan always been for Alistair to end the Archdemon? But then, that would mean...

It was too horrible to think about. She shook her head vigorously. Morrigan seemed oddly triumphant at this.

"Of course," she began tentatively, "there may be another way."

Maggie's head snapped around to hers. "What? What is it?"

"If a Grey Warden were to sleep with me, to pass on his seed, the child within me would carry the same taint. No matter how small, it wouldn't matter as long as it was there. Then at the moment of death, the soul of the Archdemon would pass into the child instead..."

Morrigan trailed off. Maggie was staring at her in horror, unable to comprehend what she was saying.

"You want to sacrifice a child to that--to that  _thing_ ," she cried. "You must be out of your mind."

"The child would not die," Morrigan said dismissively. "It would still be a mindless being, like them."

But Maggie had stood up and was moving away from her now.

"The idea of sacrificing a child's soul is worse than that of his life. And for me to do it to save myself? My hands would never come clean. No, do not tempt me with this again, Morrigan. Though I suppose it isn't me that you need to convince is it?"

Morrigan scowled back at her.

"Ah. So you've tried," she laughed scornfully, more because she knew that it would enrage Morrigan than because she found anything about the situation funny in the slightest. "You tried and failed and so you came to me to get me to convince him. You may think you know everything, Morrigan, but you have an awful lot to learn about people."


	50. Meeting with the Arl

Meanwhile, Alistair was fighting his own battle. 

"I will not!" he was saying loudly, banging his fist on the table.

"Alistair, calm down," Bann Teagan said, placing a placating hand on Alistair's shoulder. "It was just a suggestion."

"Well, it's a terrible one!" 

He was nearly shaking in his outrage. In order to mend the ties on the throne and placate the masses, the Arl had suggested pairing Alistair and Anora on the throne. They would give Loghain a pardon and he would take Alistair's place as a Grey Warden. For Alistair had flatly refused to leave the Wardens.

"I took an oath," he continued. "To forsake name and title. And I will hold to that until this Blight is over!"

Eamon shook his head and sighed but Teagan rubbed his chin.

"Well, what would you do Alistair?" 

"I would challenge Loghain to a duel to answer for his crimes of treason and lies against the Wardens! I would have his daughter and conspirator off the throne!"

"You say this and yet you refuse to accept the throne yourself. Or to act as a King must if he will sit upon it!" Eamon said, getting angry now.

"I will not marry the daughter of a traitor!"

"You are letting your feelings for the mage blind you," Teagan interjected.

"Her name is Maggie," Alistair said coldly. "And you'll kindly leave her out of this. You're forgetting that if it wasn't for her, Eamon wouldn't be here at all!"

He turned on Eamon. "She risked her life to save yours and your son's, no questions asked. No thought of anything in return. She left the fate of her friends in the Circle to chance, and then lost them all because she chose to help us. And still, all you can see of her is her magic. If you can't accept her--if you can't accept  _us--_ then Eamon can act as Regent until Connor is old enough to take his place. But if anyone finds out  _he's_  a mage, they won't let him be King either."

He stared at them stubbornly. Eamon looked a little abashed but Teagan looked thoughtful. 

"Alright," he said at last. "Challenge Loghain. Remove Anora. Eamon will act as Regent until you have dealt with the threat to the land. That is what any good King would do, would they not?"

Eamon stared silently at the fire for a long time. Finally, he nodded his agreement.

"How much time do we have before they are upon us?" he asked finally.

Alistair shook his head. "It's hard to tell. The senior Wardens and the scouts were all killed during the battle of Ostagar. I know they are close, but I can't tell how close. Days, maybe less."

"And what do we do once they are here?"

"The darkspawn rely on the Archdemon to plan. They are a hive mind. Without they Archdemon, they have no intelligence."

"So you must destroy the Archdemon?"

Alistair nodded.

"And how do you do that?"

"Only a Grey Warden can strike the killing blow. We will need all your men, and all the men Denerim can give us once we have taken the throne, to clear a path for us."

Eamon and Teagan shared a concerned look. Two Wardens against an Archdemon and an entire army of darkspawn? And if he didn't survive, there was no other heir to the throne except Connor, and the people might not accept him. But what other choice did they have?

Eamon nodded and Teagan turned to Alistair. "Prepare yourselves. We will be in contact."

Alistair turned on his heel and left without another word.


	51. A Light in the Darkness

Alistair arrived back at camp to find Maggie sitting by herself in the mouth of the tent. The fire had died down to smoldering embers. Morrigan was nowhere to be seen.

"What's going on?" he said as he came up.

Maggie looked at him blankly.

"Morrigan's gone," she said.

"What? What happened?" he cried in surprise. But he stopped at her look. It was written all over her face. She knew. Morrigan must have told her.  

"Maggie..." he trailed off.

She turned on him and went into the tent. He followed her tentatively. 

"Maggie, wait! Please!"

She stood with her back to him, her arms folded across her chest and her head down. Her long, dark hair falling in sheets so that he couldn't see her face. He wondered if she was crying.

"I can explain" he began.

When she said nothing, he continued.

"Duncan suspected a traitor. He didn't know who he could trust. Since I was the newest member, I couldn't be a part of it. I had only just arrived. And so he told me his concerns, swore me to secrecy. And--and he told me what must be done just in case he didn't make it. There must always be one who carries on because, without the Wardens, Thedas is doomed.”

She shook her head. "But why didn't you tell me? There's been plenty of time."

"I would have thought that was obvious."

She finally turned to look at him. She had, indeed, been crying.

"I don't know what you mean."

He smiled and shook his head, stepping closer to her. The tent flap closed behind him, leaving them in near darkness.

"I love you, Maggie.”

He stated it bluntly, boldly, as he stared into her eyes. They looked at each other for what felt like a very long time before she finally spoke.

"But, don't you know?" she whispered. "I love you, too."

He felt as though something inside him, something he had kept locked away, had come bursting open. Even now, in his darkest hour, all he needed was the light of her eyes he approached her. The smell of her hair as he buried his face in it. The soft touch of her lips on his. Their bodies pressed together in a spiral of color that seemed to leave the rest of the world nothing but a wash of greys in the darkness.  


	52. To the Palace

Later that night, they lay together in the little tent, his arm around her and she curled into his side.

"Maggie?"

"Hm?"

"How did you get all of these?" he ran his fingertips lightly down her back.

She shivered.

"I don't want to talk about it. What else happened with your Uncle?" she asked him, casting around for any other subject.

Alistair scowled into the darkness.

"What I expected," he said. "They would try to marry me off to the queen and make Loghain a Warden."

"What?!" she sat up in her surprise, the blankets falling away as she did.

"Do not be concerned," he said, smiling and drawing her gently back down to him. "I have refused. They need me for the throne, especially now that we know Connor is a mage."

"But then, what does that mean?"

Alistair was silent for a long time. He didn't wish to worry her, but he didn't want her to try to talk him out of it either. He had come to his decision.

Finally, he said, "Tomorrow we will confront Loghain and Anora. We will charge them with treason and then...and then I will challenge him to a duel. We will settle this once and for all. For us, for Duncan, for Ferelden."

"Alistair," she began but he hushed her.

"Please, don't try to change my mind. It is something I must do."

Maggie smiled sadly and shook her head. "I know, Alistair. Just, be careful. He has much experience. And whatever would I do without you? What would Ferelden do without you?"

This time it was he who shook his head. There was something left undiscussed. He could take the throne. He could refuse Anora. But he couldn't marry Maggie. Could he? And would she anyway? She would probably want to stay a Warden. And he would stay with her, forever by her side. But...

 _But you also have a duty to your people_ , that voice whispered again. The one that was so unlike him. And he thought he knew why. Because it was what his father would have done.  _Had_  done. It was what Duncan had done. And it was what Maggie would expect him to do.

"Let's just get some sleep," he said. "Okay?"

He didn't want to talk about it. To acknowledge it. He just wanted one moment. Just one small moment where he could be Alistair and he could be happy with the woman he loved without the reality of the future intruding in on him.

The next morning, they packed up their things. It was strange to be just the two of them now. Morrigan had been with them from the very beginning. While they ate a cold breakfast, Alistair filled Maggie in further on what had been discussed at the Arl's. About the Archdemon.

"We haven't got much time left," Maggie said. "The nightmares have been growing worse. They will be here any day now."

Alistair nodded. "I know."

The two of them headed into town, both feeling nervous. Maggie knew very well what people thought of her, as a mage. But she hated to think it would reflect poorly upon Alistair. As for him, he didn't care. In fact, he felt it was entirely unfair. Even as low as he had always been seen because of his status as a bastard, it was nothing compared to what she went through simply because she was a mage. Even though she was one of the best people he had ever met. People just couldn't see past the exterior.

They arrived to a very crowded hall, each lost in their own thoughts. They found Arl Eamon and Bann Teagan waiting for them. 

"Alistair! At last!" Eamon said, ignoring Maggie. "Come, we have been waiting."

Maggie tried to hang back, but Alistair drew her along with him. Together, hand in hand, they fell into step behind Eamon and Teagan. The Arl's men brought up the rear. They left the Arl's estate and met with a large crowd gathered outside the palace. The other members of the Bannorn. Alistair gripped her hand tightly now. He was trembling. His jaw was set and he was staring hard ahead. She realized he was afraid and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. He returned it and gave her a quick look before returning his attention to the crowd. The palace doors had opened and they were being motioned forward by the guard.


	53. The Landsmeet

The crowd walked into the palace as one, making surprisingly little noise in the great hall. Maggie looked around her in wonder. She had never seen such a place before. The ceilings were so high above her, she could hardly see them. A balcony ran along the Eastern wall, creating a floor set up above their own. This was where the King would normally present himself to his people, always set slightly above them, and just outside of their reach. Loghain and Anora stood there now. Silent, stoic. The wife of the King and her father, the friend of King Maric and the hero of untold battles.

Alistair held his head higher. He let go of Maggie's hand now, drawing slightly apart from the rest of the crowd. Except for the hair, he looked strikingly like his brother. Maggie could see that even Anora looked a little shaken by this.

"Why have you called this meeting?" Loghain called out to Eamon, ignoring Alistair by word or glance.

Eamon stepped forward.

"We are here to lay charges against you, Loghain!"

Loghain sneered at him. "And what is it you claim I have done?"

At this, Bann Teagan stepped forward. "Where to begin? You allowed Uldred and Jowan to remain free even though you knew they were blood mages! Uldred corrupted the entire tower and all the mages were killed. Jowan poisoned the Arl and, finding out Connor was a mage, aided in his possession!"

The people began to grumble a little at this. A few shifted uncomfortably away from Eamon. Alistair thought they might not be helping their own case. The people cared so little for mages, were so afraid of them, that he thought they were only adding mistrust to their own side.

"Everything I have done, I have done for Ferelden!" Loghain said, stepping forward to address the rest of the Bannorn.

"You cannot simply place yourself on the throne, throw away everything we stand for as a free nation!" Alistair said, stepping forward now.

"And who are you?" Loghain sneered.

"My nephew and brother to King Cailin," Arl Eamon said loudly. A collective gasp sounded from around the room. There had always been rumors, but the members of the Arl's family had always kept it as quiet as possible. Only those closest to the family, those in the Chantry, and the old friends of King Maric had known the full truth.

"It matters not!" Loghain was nearly shouting now. "He is a Grey Warden! He has given up his right to the throne. And even if that were not true, he is a traitor! They are the reason for the King's death! They led him into a battle they had no hope of winning, knowing how Cailin felt about the Wardens! There is no Blight!"

"No!" Alistair cried. He turned his back on Loghain and addressed the crowd instead, pointing up at Loghain on the balcony above. "He is the real traitor, against the Wardens and the nation! Too bad for him that two of us survived to testify to his treachery! We had a plan! We lit the beacons! Loghain was to come to the King's aid. Instead, he and his men quit the field! The King, Duncan, and all the Grey Wardens died because of his treachery!"

The members of the Bannorn began to whisper amongst each other at this. One stepped forward.

"But how can we know that this is true? How did you survive?"

At this, the doors behind them opened and Flemeth strode in. It looked nothing like the Flemeth they had once seen in the Wilds. This woman resembled her daughter more than ever. Gone were the drab brown robes, the hunched back and mild demeanor. This woman emanated power. Everyone in the hall drew back from her. Though she was obviously a witch, and a powerful one at that, everyone seemed to know her, and to fear her. For who had not heard of the adventures of King Maric and his best friend, Loghain Mac Tir. 

"That would be because of me, you see," she said loudly, confidently. Her voice echoed through the cavernous room.

Loghain looked at her scornfully. "A witch? And why should we trust you? Whoever you are?"

Flemeth laughed. "Ahhh, I see you have forgotten me after all these years. Or would you remember me better like this?"

She whirled and at once was clouded by a mist of greys and browns. Her body seemed to transform, to shrink into that of the tiny, hunchbacked old woman once more.

"Keep him close and he will betray you," she said in an old woman's death croak. "Each time worse than the last."

Loghain stared at her in horror.

"You?" he rasped and he actually took a step backward. "But how?"

Flemeth laughed again, this time a witch's cackle. She erupted in a column of smoke and fire, which dissipated, leaving her as she had been when she entered the room.

"Yes, me. And do not worry about the how. All you need to know is that what this young man says is true. I witnessed it. I saved them from the top of that tower and from the brink of death. Did not King Maric tell you all that a Blight would occur one day in Ferelden? And now the hour approaches."

She turned to face the people, as Alistair had done a few moments before. "All these long weeks, this man has distracted you from the real enemy! His hatred for the Orlesians, his jealousy for the man who was once his friend, they have led him to this moment. The Blight is upon us. The Archdemon will be here within days!"

Panic began to go through the crowd now. All those here had loved ones at home. Family and friends and servants. Land and animals. Everything they knew and loved.

"End this now!" she continued, building upon their fear. "The heir to the throne calls for a duel to settle the score."

Eamon stepped forward now.

"Let there be a duel. Let the Maker decide!" he yelled. The people began to nod and cheer, some of them shaking their fists at Loghain. He took a step backward, placing a hand on his daughter's arm. But there was nowhere to run.


	54. The Duel

The people drew back from the center of the room. They lined the walls, leaving a ring for the two who would soon duel each other for the throne. Maggie found herself thrust up against a wall, unable to get to Alistair. She could see his red hair from where she was, though, and a terrible shock of fear shot through her at the thought of what he was about to do. And to know that she could not help him. For this was something that he must do alone. She would only dishonor him by interfering. So she stayed back. She kept silent. And she prayed wordlessly in her heart that, above all, this man would not be taken from her.

Loghain descended and met Alistair in the middle of the room. Anora stayed above, but some of the Bannorn had joined her there, gently but surely restraining her from going to her father's aide.

Loghain and Alistair looked at one another, sizing each other up. Loghain pulled a broadsword slowly from his belt. It was a very large, two-handed weapon. Its tip glinted wickedly as he turned it to and fro, studying it, testing its balance before placing his feet surely in a dueling stance.

Alistair, too, pulled a sword from his sheath. It was much smaller, a longsword. With it, he held a shield emblazoned with the Grey Warden's logo, the Griffin. Almost at the same moment, they began to circle each other. Loghain, on the offensive. Alistair, backing away and to the side. The tension built on both sides, but still, they stared at each other. Still, they circled.

Loghain stuck first. The room gasped as a whole and Maggie cried out, her hands reaching helplessly for one she could not help.

Alistair dodged the attack easily, circling to Loghain's blind side and striking out with his shield. He connected, but not hard enough. Loghain was thrown off balance by the blow with the shield, but he brought his sword back around to guard before Alistair could make a clean cut. Their blades connected in a loud 'Clang!' and they were thrown back from one another. Again, they circled.

Maggie continued to watch this sick dance with fear growing thicker and hotter inside her. What would she do? What would she do if Alistair was killed like Duncan? Like Irving?

 _Oh, no_ , she thought helplessly.  _No, please. Please don't take him from me. I love him!_

Again, Loghain struck out for Alistair and again Alistair dodged him. Loghain was growing angry now. War hero, he may be, but it had been many a long year since he had actually fought in a battle. And longer still since he had fought man to man this way. He finally let out a yell of frustration. Letting down his guard so that he could utilize all his strength, he brought his broadsword to bear on Alistair and charged at him. 

Maggie screamed. She felt the blow as though it was physical pain. She made a mad scramble toward Alistair. The crowds parted for her. As she drew nearer, she saw that Alistair had taken the blow through his shield in order to get close to Loghain. The blade sank deep into his left arm, but his right hand, the one holding his long blade, had gone right through Loghain's defenses. The blade had been driven home between the laces in Loghain's armor. And though both men dripped with blood, it was Loghain who slid to the floor, dead. 

Alistair staggered backward with a shout of pain as the sword was pulled from his arm. The shield went with it. It had been struck clean through by Loghain's sword. Maggie ran to catch Alistair as he collapsed. She tried to see him but she could not. The tears of relief, of continued fear, ran thick and fast and she had no control over them. Alistair's face swam in front of her as she muttered the words of healing she had learned so many years ago in the tower. The wound began to bind itself back together and the bleeding slowly stopped.

A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped. A voice, surprisingly gentle, spoke into her ear. 

"He will be all right. Come, we must move him back to Eamon's estate."

Maggie nodded, allowing the Arl's men to take Alistair from her and carry him back to his estate. She let the hands guide her back across the hall and out the front doors of the palace, Alistair never leaving her sight.


	55. Sacrifices

Alistair shifted in his bed. He opened his eyes and groaned as even the dim light caused his head pain. He felt a weight on his legs and sat up a little so that he could see. Maggie was at the foot of his bed, sitting in a chair with her arms crossed on his legs and her head resting on top of them. She was fast asleep. He let his head drop back down to his pillow, smiling a little.

He looked around again. He was back in the Arl's estate. It was dark now. He must have been out for some time. He tried to move again, to sit up, but a pain shot through his arm as he did. He lay back once more, thinking. What was he to do now? How could he fight the Archdemon like this?

Maggie stirred and Alistair's left hand found her head, stroked her hair. She smiled at his touch, even in her sleep. She seemed even younger than she usually did when she was asleep like this. Young and innocent and full of life. But what future? She had never had one. She was a mage. Living--and dying--as a Warden was the closest thing to freedom she would ever know. A deep and nearly uncontrollable love for her pierced him. 

The truth of their situation bore down on him then in a way it never had before. The unfairness of it. The unavoidable fact that one of them would have to die. And whoever that was, it did not matter. They were one. That would not change no matter how they were ripped apart. For one would be dead and the other would be lost. One would perform their sworn sacrifice with their death, and the other with their life. Who could say which was worse? Which half would feel more pain?

He began to sob, unable to control himself even though they wracked his body with pain and woke Maggie.

She was at his side in an instant, face looking into his, concerned. One hand on his head, stroking his hair, and the other on his chest, just over his heart. He grasped this hand with his and turned his face from hers.

She didn't say anything. She just held onto his hand and stroked his hair until his sobs subsided. He tried to wipe his eyes, but couldn't with his injured hand. Maggie took the damp cloth she had still been holding in her hands even in her sleep and wiped his face with it.

He turned back to her, letting go of her other hand so that he could stroke her cheek with it.

"My love," he whispered.

She pressed her cheek into his hand, crying herself now.

"I'm sorry. Don't cry."

She shook her head. "I was so scared. Oh, help me, so scared, Alistair. If something had happened to you. I just couldn't bear it!"

She began to cry harder, burying her face in his chest now, while he wrapped his good arm around her.

"I know the feeling," he said, much more calmly than he felt.

"What--what are we going to do?" she asked, trying to steady herself. They still hadn't spoken of it. Neither wanted to acknowledge it, much less be forced to make a choice that didn't seem to be possible  _to_  make.

"Marry me," he said suddenly, straining to sit up. She helped him and he leaned back against the headboard.

"What do you mean to marry you?" she laughed, even through her tears. "We can't do that!"

"Why not?"

She just stared at him.

"My life is not worth living without you, Maggie," he said, very seriously.

"But if I am gone, I want you to be happy. I want you to--"

"No!" he interrupted. He took her hand in his and held it tight. "No matter what happens, my feelings for you won't change. Will yours?"

She shook her head. She knew as well as he did that they never would. That she would never be with anyone again, no matter what path lay ahead for her. She had finally found the man she was meant to be with. And she would wait for him forever, no matter what that meant.

"Then, marry me. Here, now. We don't need a priest or rings. We only need each other."

She nodded. 

"I swear unto the Maker to love this woman for the rest of our days, whether together or apart," he said.

"Bound as one, forever," she replied.

He pulled her to him and kissed her hard.

"Forever," he repeated, pressing her to him as though he could swallow her body with his. As though they could truly become one, never to be separated in life or death.

They joined together in a deep embrace, as close as two souls can be, then lay entwined in the dawn. Wishing that this moment would never end.


	56. To Save a King

Maggie slipped lightly out of bed after Alistair was asleep. She stood staring down at him for a long time, as though she could etch his face into her memory forever. She leaned down and kissed him, then she left a letter on the bedside table and quietly crossed the room, looking back at him one final time before she shut the door.

Outside the room, the house was like a maze. All white marble and carpeting. She began walking in the direction they had come in from and soon began to hear voices coming from a chamber ahead. She paused outside it. Firelight was flickering out through a crack in the door, making crazy shadows dance on the wall.

"He must be stopped," a man was saying. "He can't go into battle like that. We finally convince him to sit on the throne and he would immediately throw his life away!"

Maggie recognized Eamon's voice. Another familiar voice, that of Teagan, responded.

"You know Alistair," he said, chuckling a little. "He won't change his mind once he has made a decision. But that is also what will make him a good king. He truly cares and he is willing to fight right there alongside them."

Maggie gathered her courage, then pushed the door open. Both men jumped as she stepped into the room. She bowed a little at them, then spoke to the floor.

"Forgive the intrusion. I was passing and couldn't help but overhear what you were saying."

The men settled back down and Eamon nodded.

"It's all right," he said. "Your counsel would be welcome, in fact." 

Teagan stopped and shook his head, then ran a hand through it. He looked very tired and much older than he had when she had left him in Redcliffe.

"We may have known him longest but we certainly don't know him best. What do you think?"

Maggie stood silent for a long moment, gathering her thoughts before speaking.

"I think you're right," she said at last. The men looked at each other in surprise.

"His mind won't be changed. But he cannot go into battle. There is no way he will make it to the Archdemon, much less survive any attempt to destroy it."

She hesitated, looking at them both in turn before continuing. "I must be the one to destroy the Archdemon. Alistair will lead the men into battle. That way he can still fight, he can still be there with and for his men, but you will keep a guard with him to keep him out of harm's way. This will guarantee us one small chance. If we can keep the Archdemon focused on Alistair, and keep him protected, then I can sneak up on the Archdemon from the rear. It is the only chance. But I will need help."

Eamon and Teagan seemed surprised but ultimately pleased about this plan. 

"There is someone who can do it," Teagan said slowly. "Someone who can get you there. I will need to make inquiries. How much time do we have?"

"Not much," she replied. "They are almost upon us. And when Alistair learns what we have planned, he will not be happy."

"No," they agreed. "He will not."


	57. The Letter

Alistair woke up the next day and knew at once that something was wrong, though he did not immediately know what. His dreams had been filled with the quiet whisperings and maddening song of the horde. He groaned and sat up, putting one hand to his head, the other cradled to his side.

 _The horde is upon us_ , he thought. He turned to find Maggie but she was not there. The bed and the chair were both empty. And then he saw a note on the table beside the bed and dread filled his heart.

* * *

 

_Dear Alistair,_

_I hope that you can forgive me for what I am about to do. If you truly love me as you say you do, then you will understand why I do it. You cannot be the one to fight the Archdemon. Ferelden needs you. Your people need you. There is still so much good you can do for this world. There isn't much left for me here, except for you. But if my death can spare your life, then I have done my part for Ferelden as well._

_And perhaps this way, people will remember that a mage once saved the world instead of destroying it. It is the only chance to give my life meaning. Maybe I can make up for what I have done. Even a little._

_All my love,_

_Maggie_   

* * *

 

 _No!_  he thought miserably, crumpling the note in his hand as his heart seemed to break inside his chest. Then, realizing what he had done, he immediately smoothed it back out and lay it back on the table.

"Teagan!" he called, struggling to get up. "Teagan!"

Footsteps came hurrying down the hall. 

"Yes, what is it, Alistair?"

"Is it true?" he asked, white as a sheet. "Is she gone?"

Teagan hesitated and then nodded, coming into the room and closing the door.

"Yes, she left early this morning. She said that it was urgent. Why?"

Alistair handed him the note.

“Please tell me you didn’t know about this,” he said.

Teagan stared down at the note for a long time, considering. Finally, he looked back to Alistair. 

“Of course not,” he lied. 

But Alistair seemed to know the truth. He looked away in disgust. 

“You may think you’ve won, but I’ll never do what you want,” he said coolly. “I won’t marry Anora or Celeste or anyone else.”

”Give it time, Alistair. She wouldn’t want you to be unhappy.” 

“How would you know what she would’ve wanted?”

”Alistair, you can’t go after her. We won’t allow it. There are guards set outside your room and windows. You must ride with the men.”

Alistair didn’t respond, so Teagan continued. 

“It’s her only chance, Alistair. This was her plan, you know. And it is a good one. You should honor her for such cunning and bravery.”

”Just leave me be.” 

But once he was alone, he could only dwell incessantly upon it. Upon her.

 _Damn that Teagan!_  he thought, pounding his fist upon the bed and making himself wince. For he knew that Teagan was right. If he went after her, he would never catch her. Worse, he would ruin the one opening they may be able to give her to do what must be done. 

But even if she succeeded, there was no denying it. One way or the other, she would be dead. At least this way, she could choose her own way. 

Alistair cursed the Maker and the Chantry. Ferelden and all of Thedas. He cursed them all but it changed nothing. She was gone. 


	58. Leliana

Maggie ventured into the Gnawed Noble Tavern in Denerim. Today, there wasn't the usual strange mix of people here. People passing through in need of a room, adventurers seeking work, noblemen and women looking for an interesting night out. But the tavern was still crowded nonetheless. All of the men and women who would be joining with Alistair in the coming battle tomorrow were still here, eating and drinking. Some were even talking and laughing, excited to have a King back in their midst, to be part of such a shining moment in history.

Maggie felt distinctly out of place. She made her way to the bar, seeking the barman, but she was so small compared to the rest of the crowd that she was having trouble making herself heard.

"...looking for someone," she yelled across into the man's ear, around which he had cupped his hand in order to hear her better. "Supposed to meet me here. Her name is Leliana."

At this, the barman dropped his hand and nodded, then pointed into the next room. It was quieter in here, and darker. There was someone sitting by themselves at a small table in the corner. Their hood was up and their cloak pulled tight. It was impossible to tell what they looked like. 

She nodded her thanks and then made her way over to the lone figure in the next room.

"Leliana?" she asked, quietly.

The figure looked up, dropping her hood. She saw that it was a woman. A beautiful one. She had fiery orange hair, olive skin, and bright green almond-shaped eyes. They were large and wide with thick lashes. Her mouth was full and pouty. It was currently drawn down into a frown. She looked Maggie up and down before finally motioning for her to sit down.

"You are the one Teagan spoke of?"

"Yes."

"But you are so young. I was expecting someone, well, older."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," Maggie said, starting to get annoyed now.

The woman laughed.  "I am not disappointed. Merely surprised."

Maggie looked at her thoughtfully. She wasn't much older than Maggie herself.

 _Why_ , she thought,  _would she be willing to put herself at such risk for me?_

But before she could voice this, Leliana spoke again.

"I had a dream about you, you know? The Maker told me you were coming."

She laughed at the look on Maggie's face. 

"I know, it sounds crazy. But I swear it's true. In my dream, I was standing in the chantry in Lothering where I had been staying," she began.

At this, Maggie started. Leliana seemed not to notice, but continued on with her story.

"The horde was coming. It passed over the town, leaving it black and ruined. Covering it in sickness. But in the darkness, a single flower bloomed and at that same moment, it emitted such and intense, bright light, that I was nearly blinded by it. I reached up a hand to shield my eyes--" and as she said this, she recreated the action in life, as though seeing it again, "--and when I dropped my hand, it was gone."

She looked very seriously at Maggie now, who said nothing. She felt disquieted by the image she had described.

"I left the chantry at once, where I had been staying since my own troubles drove me from my home in Orlais. And I have been waiting for you here ever since. I knew that you would come eventually. And when Teagan contacted me last night with the news that a Grey Warden was still alive, I knew that it was time."

"Well, I don't know about your Maker," Maggie began, shifting uncomfortably in her seat, "but Teagan was right at least. I need you. I need to get close enough to the Archdemon for an attack. I'll only have one chance. But with its attention on Alistair, we stand a chance, as long as you can get me close enough."

Leliana nodded, then smiled. She reached over to shake Maggie's hand.

"It will be done," she said. "Thank you for allowing me to help you."

Maggie had no idea what to say to this. Why would this woman be thanking her? She shook her head, completely mystified. Leliana laughed again. 

"Come now," she said. "Is it really so surprising? We all wish to feel as though our lives have meaning, don't we?"

"Thank you, Leliana. Truly."

Leliana smiled back at her, and it was such a warm and real smile, that Maggie actually felt herself returning it. Then the two women got up and left the tavern together.


	59. The Alienage

Twilight came and with it came the darkness. The horde would be arriving with it, he knew. All those who could be safely guided out of the city before then had been evacuated. Doing a final round, Alistair noticed that a set of bars covering the entrance to another part of the city.

"Just the alienage, my Lord," said one of the knights dismissively. 

Alistair glared at him coldly, then drew his horse up sharply. 

"Raise the gates at once!" he called out to his men. Some moved to obey while others hesitated. 

"But, my Lord! The darkspawn are nearly upon us! They are just elves." 

Alistair turned to the man, one of Loghain's aides. 

"You are dismissed," he said coldly.

"But..." the man said, shocked into silence.

"I said you are dismissed," he repeated, then turned to look at the rest of the men. "And I said raise the gates. Now!"

The men hastened to obey him while the knight turned his horse around and rode off toward the outskirts of the city.

"Good riddance," Alistair scowled after him.

He chose two of his fastest riders to act as guides for the elves and then return, then he rode into the alienage. The elves were huddled in the center of the city, all of them hugging each other, some of them openly weeping. They stared up at him in fear as he rode in. The closest to his horse actually flinched back, rushing to move away from the human.

Alistair pulled up his reins sharply. "Out, now! All of you! The darkspawn are almost upon us!"

The elves just stared at him for a moment, seemingly unable to understand what he meant.

"Come on!" he roared at them. "We must get you to safety at once!"

And then he rode off toward the gate, the Griffin flag he was carrying in his uninjured hand waving behind him. After a minute, they seemed to realize that this was no trick and they began to move toward the gates. They emerged, looking warily around at the knights who had so often been the cause of their fear and grief. Alistair called up the riders, one to take the front and one the rear. As a group, they moved steadily across the empty courtyard toward the far exit to the city.

And that was when it began. It started with a low rumbling. As though the earth itself was shaking. But then came the horde and beyond, the towering figure of the Archdemon. The men stood frozen, staring up at the great beast. The dragon roared, lifting itself onto its hind legs and flapping its wings. It roared into the night and the darkspawn roared back, charging the city with their weapons. They came from the East, through the slums. They tore apart the streets and any unfortunate hovels that happened to be in the way. 

Alistair gathered his men and led them to the Eastern gates. This was where they would have to make their stand. They had no chance against the oncoming flood of darkspawn. But the gate would act as a dam, a means to stem the flow of the monsters. From the West came the Ash Warriors and their hounds, followed by Eamon, Teagan and the men of Redcliffe. From the North came Fergus Cousland and the armies from Highever. There were even some dwarves and elves among them, there to honor their own promises to the Wardens of ages past.

Alistair looked around at them all, and then back toward the approaching army. No, they could not defeat them all. But they could buy her some time. 


	60. The Battle of Denerim

Maggie and Leliana made their way up the banks of the Drakon River. It ran through the city, coming out behind the Eastern Entrance. The darkspawn would be sticking to the Western Road, which ran nearly parallel to it, but on the other side of the bank. It was a good plan. Their sound and their scent would be drowned out by the river. It was their best chance to sneak up behind the Archdemon without it realizing she was there. It would be a close thing, she knew. For just as she could sense it, it could sense her. But Alistair had been a Warden longer, so his taint was stronger. And he had the armies at the gates. They had a chance. 

Maggie followed closely behind Leliana. She wasn't familiar with this area and it was growing dark quickly under the influence of the Blight. Leliana moved silently and surely over the riverbank. Stumbling behind her, Maggie felt as ungraceful as an ox lumbering behind a deer.

Finally, the two women drew up to where the river turned North. Here, they would make their way back to the roads. They kept to dark alleyways, moving as quickly as they could in the deep shadows. Finally, sounds of battle began to make themselves heard. They heard the Archdemon roar just as they were coming out from between two tall buildings. Maggie gasped and halted in her steps when she saw it. It was at least 50 feet tall, rearing up on its hind legs and flapping its great wings to create dust storms from the dirt in the street. It blocked out the sun and choked the men. 

It let out a roar and then dove it's head toward them, weaving snakelike as it moved. Maggie knew what was going to happen just a moment before it did. She screamed, but it went unheard in the blast that issued forth from the creature's mouth. It reared its head from side to side, dousing the men, the building, and the gates all with fire. The men screamed and ran. Some dropped to the ground and rolled around. Others simply fell where they stood, cooked inside of their metal armor.

Maggie began to run toward the men, the Archdemon completely forgotten. The only thought in her head was to get to Alistair. To find Alistair and make sure, make quite sure, he was okay. A hand grabbed her from behind. Leliana. 

"Wait," she whispered. "Look."

She pointed and Maggie followed the direction of her hand. Through the haze of smoke and fire, she saw a silver and blue Griffin waving as it moved through the crowds. Back and forth at a slow pace, gathering the men, continuing the approach.

"Alistair," she breathed. He was still alive.

She looked up at the dragon towering high above her. It was coming down on its front haunches now. Readying itself for another attack. If she did it--did it now--there was still a chance he might live. She turned back to Leliana one last time.

"Tell him goodbye for me. Tell him...Tell him I'll be waiting."

And then she ran. Before the tears could come. Before her brain could stop her body from doing what it knew it must do. She let go of her mind and felt with her heart. 

 _Duncan_ ,  _be with me now! Guide my hand!_ And it was as though she could see him, there in front of her. Extending his hand toward her as he had done so many times.

She jumped, at the same time releasing a wind spell to lift her high in the air. Her dagger was already in her hand. The dragon reared its head, noticing her now as she flew toward its head. And then an arrow came out of nowhere, striking its nose. It hissed, turning back to look at its attacker. As Maggie came down onto its head with her knife, she saw Leliana far below, her bow drawn back and ready to loose another arrow.

 _Thank you, Leliana_ , she thought.

And then the dagger hit its mark. It drove deep into the Archdemon's head, piercing its brain. It let out a screech. The darkspawn all around them began to shriek, dropping their weapons and grabbing their own heads in pain. The spirit that had been encased inside the twisted, corrupted body came pouring out and straight into Maggie and she thought how strange it was that this creature had been in just as much pain as her. An overwhelming feeling of gratitude that was not her own accompanied this thought. Followed by a pity she would never have expected.

As she joined with it, in their dying instant, they saw through the same eyes. Death. Corruption. Blackness. But there was also light.

Alistair. They Griffin flag still waving in the distance. 

 _I love you,_ she thought as her heart broke.  _Goodbye._

And then she was gone.


	61. Epilogue

_10 years later._

* * *

 

Alistair lay on soft green grass looking up at a perfect, cloudless sky. The sun shone down on him and the smell of flowers blew on the wind. Soft music played in the background. Music that was difficult to ignore. As it grew louder, it began to blot out the warmth of the day. And then a soft hand touched his. He grasped the fingers tightly. He turned his head and found himself looking right into her beautiful blue eyes.

"Maggie," he sighed and his heart quickened. There she was, smiling sweetly back at him. Her long black hair lay tousled around her shoulders and the grass behind her. She smiled sadly at him and then spoke, but he could not hear the words. 

"What?" he asked.

She spoke again, but again he could not hear her. He grasped her hand tighter, but suddenly she wasn't there anymore. Alistair woke up, cold and shivering in his bed. He was alone. Alone, just as he had been ever since that night ten years ago.

But she was here.

No. How could she have been here? 

She was a mage. 

But she was dead. Dead and never coming back.

He got out of bed and moved across the huge, empty room. It was where he slept, but it was not home. It would never be home. He crossed to the windows and threw them open to look out over Denerim. He could see the Frostback Mountains far off in the distance. The conclave was being held there today. The violence between the mages and the Templars had escalated so quickly over the last few years, it was hard to think back and find where it first exactly when it had first begun. Before long, it would be all-out war, he knew. 

Since he had taken the throne, Alistair had made it his mission to free the mages. True, there were few mages left in Ferelden after what had happened at the tower, but there were still some. Connor and others like him. Wynne had been put in charge of Kinlock Hold. Greagoir was still there, too. But the mages studies on their own now. They were no longer shut away or forced to stay on the island, though many chose to anyway.

Other circles had followed suit. Alistair had even met with Grand-Enchanter Fiona recently. He knew it would create enemies and that other places, like Kirkwall, would never be persuaded. But he also knew that he owed it to her to try. While the people were still sympathetic to her sacrifice. 

A deep, abiding pain, a pain where love had once resided, tore at his heart. He thought of the old legend, that even the mountains had once had hearts. Seeing the pain men brought upon themselves, Korth, the Mountain-Father, removed his heart and hid it away so as to never be betrayed by it. His hand balled into a fist and he brought it to his breast. He smiled, a bittersweet smile that tore at the heart. 

And then the heavens tore asunder. The Temple of Sacred Ashes lay destroyed and the world as they knew it was forever changed.


End file.
